


Just Deal With The Devil

by Ilillium (Lucillium)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Demon Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Demon! AU, Dismemberment, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gore, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, The tags are scary but poke your head through the door, Torture, extreme violence, more tags as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucillium/pseuds/Ilillium
Summary: Into the depths of Hell Roadhog falls.A hunt for a stolen soul led by an enigmatic, fully erratic thrall.The horrors of the void realized constantly, fear alive as he, and yethe cannot flee.





	1. Chapter 1

Three massive sheets from an aircraft wing and six canisters of hogdrogen, conveniently missing from their homes.

This was the second raid on his base in a week, an emboldened undertaking from some sod who thought they could hit the same place again and again without ever getting caught.

Did they not see the signs on the front, pig logo painted with a questionable mix of organic and synthetic red pigments? He'd plastered enough signage for even the most idiotic junker to understand.

If this was the work of Ducky and his lot again, Roadhog wouldn't be as benevolent as last time.

The wasteland's radioactive storms that spat out face-melting rain would only be amplified with what soon would be autumn in the outback. The infernal days and iciclic nights were already a hassle, and maintaining any sort of a shack was a piss-and-a-half. Those stolen jets parts were a major haul at the Scrapyard that would've reinforced his shelter, and it took him a couple of well-planned trips to lug the metal back on his bike without anybody trying to tangle with him.

Recollecting all the effort put in, Roadhog simmered in disgust, with no clue as to who jacked his shit.

He scanned the perimeter of his base for any tracks, any mistakes left behind by the trespassers. After nearly three hours turning that place upside-down, he moved back inside and plopped down on his bed, exhaling with enough force to fog the lenses on his goggles. Not a single clue was left behind.

There were cacklings of animals in the distance, followed by an abysmal scream from some unlucky fool. What seemed to be celebratory howling momentarily pulled Roadhog's head away from seething thoughts. It was a quick reminder that he was at least safe and competent enough to not be some beast's next meal.

His left hand turned a knob on a canister attached to his bed, and he attached a chunky tube to his mask, locking into place. With another deep breath newly infused with hogdrogen, he closed his eyes and tried to relax and reason with the situation.

His hogdrogen containers were custom and easy to weld together, with no intrinsic value. If they were opened, the contents would dissipate into the air. If they were thrown into a fire, the explosion would be quick, yet contained, so it wasn't even good explosive fodder. And in order for them to be used medically, a special mechanism that only he and Bruce back in Junkertown knew how to craft was required. In capable hands, the cans of compressed life were powerful. But to the average Junker?

Roadhog knew they weren't worth shit to anybody excluding himself.

Roadhog peeked over his bed and remembered that his hogdrogen station otherwise remained untouched. None of the knobs were turned, the same amount of liquid life set to brew earlier was there, and no foul play with his machine seemed present.

His head dropped back onto the pillow, ponytail strewn about and hanging off the bed. He knew how to make his lifeline, so the loss of some containers was deemed minimal at best.

Roadhog grunted at his conclusion, but then stressed himself again at the loss of the plane parts.

How does one take _everything_ without being seen? Unless it was a group?

There was only one group that would dare attempt to steal from Roadhog, and repeatedly at that.

His eyes shot open at the thought, and he immediately sat up.

"That Bitch," his voice grated, only referring to the Queen of Junkertown.

 

It wasn't but a few days ago she sent one of her lackeys down to his place in demands for some newly imposed 'squat tax'. Roadhog spat beside the messenger's feet and pressed the barrel of his gun against the kid's entire face. Had he known his actions wouldn't incite enough fear to keep his mouth shut on what transpired, he would've blasted the boy's brains and painted a new sign with the remnants.

Roadhog scratched at the nape of his neck. Revenge wouldn't be an easy walk-in and mow-down. Too many trigger-happy junkers, and even though Roadhog had thick skin, it wouldn't protect him from that many bullets, heal juice factored in as well.

He disconnected the tube from his mask and rose from his bed, grabbing his gun and belt with his attached hook mechanism before throwing them into his sidecar. Wind from outside was weaving its way through the many opened frames to his base, a sirenic gust that leveled him out and lured him away.

Enchanted by the breeze, Roadhog followed and stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked downwards towards a small hut surrounded by trees with a janky windmill.

Severed heads hung from each of the blades, swirling about all hours as a reminder and ward for most Junkers to stay away. New ones would find their way on the blades frequently, but Roadhog's never seen anybody climb up and put them there. From time to time, buzzards would try to pick at the remains, but would sometimes get killed by the spinning blades themselves.

Those who got close enough would be inundated with the scent of decay and death, a moat of a stench that was heavy enough to seep into pores and stay there for days after passing through the area.

Roadhog knew about that foreign hag in the shack. Knew that the rumours about her raising the dead had to come from somewhere. Knew that she was strong enough somehow to keep people from scrapping her shack into nothingness. Roadhog knew she never left that place, but those who wandered there usually never found their way out.

If there was any fate he wanted to befall on the Queen of Junkertown, it'd be the wrath of whatever holed itself up in that hut down below.

With an extra grunt, Hog went back inside, grabbed a few canisters and threw them into his sidecar with the rest of his gear before revving his bike up.

It was time to pay this occultist a visit.


	2. Chapter 2

With the hour being so late, the ride was unnervingly quiet. Normally there'd be some form of commotion that could be heard across the wasteland, especially being in such close proximity to Junkertown. Bullets, screams, explosions, laughter-- _something_. 

Still, Roadhog didn't complain, but wondered if more of his shit would be missing when he returned to his spot again. 

A third offense would most likely lead him to murder everyone in his radius in the near future.

His mask was good for filtering out odd scents most of the time, but right as his destination came into view, putrid winds wafted and lingered their way inside, only amplifying as he got closer. 

The bike was cruising on relatively smooth ground as well, but the surface became bumpier, with different coloured patches of earth littering the landscape. 

Shallow graves, everywhere. 

His bike hiccuped over the rectangular patches, tires bobbing on the uneven surface. It was struggling enough with Roadhog's weight as it was, and now this. 

The combination of death and the turbulence of his bike made it very difficult for Roadhog to not vomit right in his mask.

As he approached the actual entrance of the hut, he blinked his eyes twice and squinted. Before him stood a young and scantily clad witch, broomstick in hand sweeping the ground like a pendulum.

When he stopped his bike and killed the switch, he sat and stared at her, debating if he wanted to turn his bike around or hurl.

 

"Looking for something dear?" The voice was noxiously sweet, a cloying pitch that screeched without effort.

"Want someone dead."

"Well, we both know you don't need my help with that, Mako."

Roadhog's head tilted back as he sized her up. He'd never met this woman before, pale skin and unreasonably good looking. Her hair had sheen unseen from any woman outside of Sydney, and her get-up was coordinated, clean, tailored. Already he didn't trust anything about her. 

Had she been spying on him? If that was the case, she could very well be behind the recent thievings. His foot tapped at the kickstand before equipping his belt and grabbing his gun.

Still, she swept, smiling eerily at him.

 

"You stole my shit?"

A mocking set of laughs shot from the woman's mouth, giggling into the otherwise silent night. When she piped down, the words slipped off her tongue suggestively.

"Well, I guess you had to ask. No, I didn't steal your stuff, but I can confirm your initial inclinations were right."

"The Queen? You seen them then?"

"Indirectly," was all she said before her door creaked open. She set her broom aside and sauntered indoors, dress revealing daintier bits of herself as hips swayed already thin fabrics. 

A cheap lure, if anything, he deduced. 

Roadhog tried to look past the door and see what was inside, but there was just pure darkness. An actual void that seemed nothing less than a black box. He grabbed a few cans of hogdrogen, instantly regretting his footsteps towards the unknown.

 

* * *

 

 

With the steel of his boot traversing the threshold, he found the inside even less inviting than anticipated. Furniture was smashed and legs of tables were broken off, coated in the blood of who knows who. For the surfaces that were leveled enough to keep things up, plates with limbs and bags of organs, intestines, hearts and more were propped up, festering with maggots.

He hadn't taken but two steps into her lair, but somehow she appeared behind him.

"No worries dear, they're sorted." 

Roadhog jumped ever slightly before looking behind himself to see she was gone. 

His thumb pulled back on the safety of his gun, and a faint clicking of the tongue could be heard.

"If you were to be on the menu, I'd have killed you already Mako. Trust your neighborhood witch, mm?"

She stepped on what seemed to be a severed head, heel caught in an eye socket before kicking it away and brushing the decayed eyeball off her heel.

"Now, curses are expensive dear boy. But I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

"What do you want," Roadhog bellowed, trying to keep his head level through the obscenity of this place. In the corner of his eye was a mobile of hacked phalli dangling about. "I can get you bodies."

"Oh, those come through enough. Have you seen my legs?" She extended her right one expecting some kind of awe, but Roadhog remained unmoved. Eventually, she waved him off and sucked her teeth. "Gets most of your kind excited instantly. You must be interested in the male form then."

Roadhog kept quiet as she prattled on.

"Just a moment of your time then. I might need a few things around here. Skin cream serums and the like." Her manicured index finger pressed against her coveted leg and Roadhog flinched at the sight. Upon touch, it shriveled like a raisin, skin ruptured like parched earth and innards exposed. Had she punctured it with her nail, Roadhog feared it would peel and fall right off. Upon pull back however, the mirage reappeared, and her leg seemed proper again.

"I need some jackalroot. Think you can find some for me?"

Roadhog squinted at the hag again, trying to figure out her game. The irradiated herb was abundant in the area, as it was just a thorny, waxy grass with no real purpose. You couldn't even eat it in a pinch. Hell, when Roadhog walked up to her hut, there were at least three bushes in the immediate vicinity.

"I see what you're thinking," she started. "But I need some near the river, you see. And I can't venture too far from my little abode."

Roadhog made a mental note of that.

"You get me the grass, I'll set your curse in motion."

Roadhog thought for a minute before reapplying the safety on his gun.

"Very good. I'll be right here."

Still skeptical, he turned around and went through the door from whence he came.

 

* * *

 

Upon returning with what seemed to be two of his handfuls worth of grass, he immediately lifted his mask, as his body provided no time to keep down the burning bile erupting from his throat. 

A foreign tongue flopped from the witch's lips, along with coarse crunching of marrow and flesh clearly present in her mouth. Blood dripped from the corner of her lip and she sighed in disgust. 

"Ugh, don't vomit on my floor, I don't want to have to clean that up."

She put down her plate of body parts and wiped her mouth with her sleeve before rising and moving towards Roadhog. 

With haste, he did the same, and shoved his mask back over his face.

"Your lips are quite plump," she quipped..

"I have the jackalroot. From the river." He growled. He didn't sign up for this shit at all and would blast a bullet through her if she tried anything. 

She snickered before snatching it away and vanishing into another room. There was a quick explosion of gold before a faint gas emanated from the room. Upon returning, the end of her broom handle glowed as bright yellow as the hogdrogen fluid he conjured up himself. She cleared her throat and smiled.

"A curse," she hesitated, glaring at Roadhog, "upon the Queen then," she whispered. Twirling the radiating end of her broomstick towards the floor, a beam etched a sigil on the earth into what appeared to be blood.

Roadhog wasn't much for superstitions or notions of spells or magic. If anything, he just expected the witch to tell him to come back after a few days later to find the Queen's head right up there on the windmill with the rest of them.

But the crest in the floor glowed dangerously red. 

Nothing had spooked Roadhog more than the breaking of the ground beneath the now pulsing etching, pounding at the surface in a desperate attempt to break free from its confines, whatever _it_ was. 

Was a corpse being re-animated? In a brief moment, Mako had flickered into consciousness replacing Roadhog entirely, and horror had consumed him to a point of ceased breathing. 

The soil eventually broke open, body parts amassed on the witch's floor volcanically strewn across the room, and otherworldly shrieks poured from the hole before a red blur shot straight out through the roof of her hut. Specks of blood showered Roadhog's mask and bare arms before slicking the surfaces of the hut. The clawing of hands from the infernal hole grasping at Hog's ankles spiraled him into a disgraceful plummet onto his own vomit. His hands pushed against the mess, pushed towards the door and his gut rattled as an otherworldly emptiness filled him inside.

Just as quickly as it opened, the hag stomped her foot through the hole of fire and closed the realm shut. The flesh on her leg was seared practically off the bone, bits of charred flesh hanging from what was left of her calf and foot. She flipped the end of her broomstick again and swept the fallen pieces of her aside, then flipped it again to point the golden beam at her leg, which regenerated her lost flesh before Roadhog's eyes.

"Aww, look at you," she cooed, tickled by the scene. "You look like you've been through hell."

"Is it done?" Roadhog shouted, a little louder than he realized. He tried as gracefully as he could to get back up.

"You wait. One night." She moved towards Roadhog and offered her hand to lift him up and he cocked his head in disbelief.

"Come," she snapped, extending her hand further. He took her dainty hand into his and was floored by the inhuman strength she possessed to lift him to his feet. "I am hungry." She licked remnants of Roadhog's vomit off her hands before looking back at her guest. "Unless you want to be next, I suggest you get out. There are some passerbys I expect in the next hour."

Roadhog backpedaled out of the door and immediately started his bike and drove off.

What he witnessed and what he processed weren't in sync at all, and it would take him the entire day to finally realize exactly what this curse entailed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the witch putting that outfit to good use, bless her insatiable appetite


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you think you hard af in the wasteland but someone 1ups you

A mixture of re-fortifying his base, smithing more canisters for hogdrogen, and making tweaks on his bike swallowed the entirety of the new day. Oppressive heat came and left, and by the time the cool of the night supplanted the arid atmosphere from earlier, Roadhog was already getting himself ready to retire.

He took time to really rest and observe his handiwork, but it was just a sad attempt to distract himself from yesterday's events.

It still burned fresh in his mind, the stench of decomposition and the erosion of human flesh everywhere he turned. Putrid particles rested themselves in his thick hide, a scented reminder of the feral entity back down the hill. It wasn't uncommon for cannibalism in the wastes, but the sheer collection of sorted body parts tucked in burlap sacks with pooled blood oozing from their containers...

Something about that place shook Roadhog to his very core.

The words uttered earlier by the elusive witch continued to bell in his mind, resonating over and over.

_One night._

Well, if it was just one night, then something was supposed to happen sooner than later.

Roadhog pushed the buckle to release his upper body armor, letting it collapse onto the metal floor with a reverberating thud. A quick stretch of his back elicited a hearty groan, followed by protest from weakened lungs.

Eyelids heavier than his excess weight, Roadhog set his gun underneath the bed and sighed as he depressed the side of his mattress. The springs squeaked in protest, but he ignored them and tried to rest his eyes, despite a growing discomfort welling in his stomach.

A shrill and otherworldy cry echoed itself through the night, and it pried Roadhog's eyes open with a force strong enough to command his entire body to rise. It tremoloed slowly into defeated nothingness, a cacophony that was the precursor to what evolved into a warped choir.

Roadhog sprang up and grabbed his gun before charging to the entrance of his base.

It was rare for him to completely remove his facial barrier strictly to get a better look at something, but there was no hesitation as thick fingers fumbled with buckles on the back of his mask.

With unfiltered vision focused on the sight before him, his eyeballs and skin around them strained, as he couldn't widen them anymore to take in what he was seeing.

Junkertown was lit ablaze, the source a pillar of sanguine flames spearing the heavens and hell itself. In all his 40-odd years Roadhog was alive, he had never witnessed anything like this spiraling, gravity-defiant cylinder of fire. The Omnic Crisis was dwarfed in his mind, and the raw heat emanating from it was reminiscent of being slow-roasted on a spit, even if he was miles from town.

When Roadhog squinted closer, he saw bodies being sucked into the vortex, only to disappear just seconds later.

 

Was this what the witch had in mind? Roadhog just wanted the Queen and her goons, not the entire community to pay for the bitch's petty rivalry and thievery.

He slipped his mask on and re-harnessed his shoulder pads and took to his hogdrogen station.

There was enough fluid for a few skirmishes or one sustained fight. He quickly loaded up empty containers, taking care to not lose any fluid in the compression process. He would need every bit he had.

Mind blank and using all effort to not ask what-ifs, Roadhog knew he had to contain whatever was causing the carnage down the road.

And so, with a hefty kick off his bike stand, he revived his chopper once more. The engine was severely seconded by the wails, and Roadhog sped over to Junkertown with the hugest lump in his throat and a mounting realization that containing this could well be out of his power.

 

* * *

 

It didn't take long for the bike to completely give out. It puttered about in the beginning, initially able to handle the increasing temperatures. Eventually the body and handles were as hot as the exhaust pipe, and it functioned no more. Roadhog cursed it all -- he should have known to just make the trek on foot.

He was still roughly four miles from Junkertown, and the temperature had shot up minimally ten degrees. He grunted as he unbuckled his mask, pushing it just above his face to ventilate and drain the pooling sweat.

Snatching up his effects, he looked about for a place to hide his bike. Even if there was an apocalyptic occurrence, he'd need wheels after he made it through alive. A nearby bush was sufficient enough to tuck it away in, and Roadhog shoved it there with great force before moving towards Junkertown.

 

* * *

 

The tattered tenements and ragged skyline came into view as he banked around the sloping corner towards the east entrance of the city. To his surprise, it was no hotter than it was before, and Roadhog was certain his skin should have melted being that close. He counted his blessings briefly before noticing the front gate was wide open.

Charred bones and ashen outlines littered the entryway, a breadcrumb trail that lead to the heart of the slaughter. He took a deep breath before coughing and shoved his mask back down. If it wasn't getting any hotter than what it was, he would press on.

He followed the path, but abruptly stopped at Bruce's shop. He peeked his head in, and noticed the entire shop was trashed, old buddy nowhere to be found. Roadhog sighed, surrendering to the thought he too might be dead, and carried on.  
  
Barreling through the town as fast as he could took him to the epicenter, and here the heard the familiar agonizing protests.

"Well w'd'ya look at that Sheila, y'got yourself another bloke tryna save ya!"

There was hesistation as Roadhog reached for his hook and cocked off his gun's safety.

This entire time it was the Queen's shrill cries carrying across towns, but the calls did nothing to reveal the level of torture she endured. Blood dripped from her mouth, a result of her lip ring ripped right off. In between inaudible shrieks, more blood leaked out, a severed tongue disabling the simplest reaction to shout for help.

Her eye sockets ran streams of red, balls nowhere to be found, and there was a deep "x" scored onto her face.

The right arm and legs were cleaved at the bone with her own weapon, axe still lodged in her upper thigh and pinning her to the ground right below the platform to her throne.

The fact she continued drawing breath astounded Roadhog.

The culprit jabbed its steel blade of a right leg right into her spine as he sat upon her regal chair, breaking out into a fit of giggles. With each twist of its leg, the Queen flailed about, guttural screams winding down with every crunch on her vertebrae before finally quieting due to exhaustion.

 

It was a demon. An actual demon, and although Roadhog shouldn't have been this surprised after all he's seen, his body locked up, trying to balance focus between the mutilated Queen and the crimson creature before him.

Riveted horns protruded from its head, tips searing just as the flames engulfing the city, and it donned a half bandolier full of liquid lava across its bare chest. Abnormally tall and svelte, Roadhog watched as the humanoid spawn whipped out a spiked wheel half the size of its body. The creature's chortles were unnerving, and with a hefty lift he lodged it into the Queen's back, making sure to wedge it deep into her flesh good.

When the creature received no audible reaction, it threw its hands onto its hips and pouted.

"Oh no, y'ain't gettin' off that easy mate." Its voice was guttural and multi-tonal, gravel to the ears. It doubled over and was far deeper than Roadhog's naturally intimidating rumblings.

Out of thin air, a gun appeared in the creature's right hand, an augmented grenade launcher loaded with obsidian bombs also filled with molten slag. Its free hand lit ablaze and smacked life back into its prey, leaving third degree sear marks on her cheek. It pressed the clawed nuzzle of the launcher to her head with extra care before extinguishing its hand.

"Maybe y'shouldn't have taken what wa'n't yours ta begin with.

"Now I get ta have a treat! Y'don't wanna know how long oi've been locked up without a little fun!"

 

Right before it squeezed the trigger, Roadhog threw his hook towards the creature. Recalling his chain fished nothing, and the assailant up and vanished.

Reappearing behind him, there was no time to whip around and shoot.

It lifted its hand to strike him, black talons coated in flames before abruptly pulling back. It simmered down and stared at Roadhog again.

 

"Well, w'd'ya look at this beaut."

 

Roadhog glared in confusion before shooting his gun twice at the creature.

He was met with an exasperated expression, and a searing touch upon his shoulder.

"Oi get it then," it started, and Roadhog was still befuddled. He hadn't moved, yet the shots were nowhere to be found on its body. At point blank range, there should have been something to show for it.

"So you're my liberator then? Explains why ya not burning from me barbie here." Its spirit fingers highlighted the pillar of flame a few clicks behind them. " Good on ya mate, oi've been waitin' eons t'get up here and start some trouble."

"Cut it out," Roadhog bellowed.

He tried to recollect tales of demons in his head and how to control them. It was clear the fidgeting creature wouldn't kill him -- at least not yet -- so surely he had some sort of power over him?

 

His demand was met with an irritating laugh, followed with a theatrical wipe of tears.

"That's cute, y'think that's how this works?

"Oi've fulfilled me duty, so I get compensated." A bushy eyebrow reflexively quirked up as he sized up Roadhog. "Sure you ain't one of us yerself?"

"I said cut it out!" Roadhog ignored the question, and instead pressed his gun against its chest.

 

The response was instant; the creature leapt forward, shoving Roadhog down to the ground. Its hands were viced around his neck, the strength of his grip underestimated and stifling. He tried to use the butt of his gun to knock the creature off him, but found consciousness waining. As his main defense peeled away from his fingertips, so too did the creature's grip, and it rose up from off him.

The release left Roadhog lapping in air and fishing for life in his pockets. After connecting and inhaling the vapors, he came to, only more enraged than before.

 

"Tell ya what," the creature carried on. It had teleported back to the maimed woman on the floor, squatting below to make sure she was somehow still clinging to life. He fidgeted with the spiked tire he impaled on her back as a test, and heard a faint groan in response before laughing anew.

"Oi figured out where y' stuff was stashed." A blackened stiletto nail pointed towards a back room who's door was eroded by liquid heat. "Might be a touch melted now though," he quipped, laughing again at the situation.

It rose up from its position and fiddled with the pain wheel before sauntering over back to Roadhog.

 

"Want it all t'be over now, don't ya big guy?"

The Queen became awake again, only to yell out the last of her lungs. She couldn't shift, couldn't escape, and the creature placed its peg leg to the side of her face before squatting down to grab her braided ponytail.

"Yeah, this'll do nice." With a strong yank, the creature pulled her body up by her hair, curving her torso against the spiked wheel and tying her hair to it to keep her body stuck in that position. Blood jutted than mellowed from her chest cavity as one of the wheel's spikes pierced through her torso, bits of flesh impaled on the metal tips. It snapped its fingers, a rekindling of what served as a torch of a hand.

"Wanna watch how it all ends? I promise ya, it'll be a show!"

Roadhog knew she and her lackeys deserved a terrible fate, but nothing this twisted. Just as he started to intervene, bars of flame encased him in a searing crate, leaving him unable to move. The heat was sweltering, and no sooner did the cage come up did Roadhog drop his hook and his gun to the ground -- they were far too hot to handle.

"Can't have any audience interaction on this one! I'm sure y'understand?"

 

He jerked her braid once more only to set the tip on fire.

The flame traveled up the plait unnaturally fast before finally lighting her entire head on fire.

 

That was the breaking point. Roadhog tilted his mask again and vomited besides himself, the odor of searing flesh blowing about.

 

The creature carried on, smacking the side of his wheel, enveloping it entirely in flames.

Its cackling rivaled the popping noises the fire made as it boiled the woman from the inside out.

 

"And now, ta finish it all off!" It sang aloud, dancing and holding its stomach in delight. A swift kick of the wheel had it rolling off the platform, autonomously balancing itself towards the huge spire centered in the town, before finally disappearing into nothingness.

 

Roadhog could see, just barely, a wisp of energy making its way towards the creature, and it was inhaled greedily before settling down.

 

The heated cage had dropped, and the vortex in the middle of the town ceased entirely.

Coated in black soot and still radiating the heat, there was nothing left to show for Junkertown. 

 

Roadhog took two steps back before trying to figure out how to get out of this situation entirely.

Tacking of an unstable gait pulled Roadhog from his thoughts, and before he knew it the creature was holding his weapons in front of him, waiting for him to take them away.

 

"That was fun!" It squealed, baring a hellish grin that was maliciously genuine.

When it didn't get a response, it rolled its eyes and shoved the weapons onto Roadhog's stomach before walking past.

"Oh please, y'definitely didn't come here ta stop me, y'came ta watch. S'don't even gimme that look!

"B'sides, y'summoned me here yerself!"

 

Only he didn't. Roadhog didn't understand the specifics of summoning hellspawn, but he was sure enough this was more so the witch's thrall than his own. He didn't dare say anything though; knowing he wasn't the original summoner could have been the difference between life and death.

 

"S'where to mate?"

"You burned the town, there's nothing left." Roadhog regained composure to the best of his ability, grabbing his gear and walking around the jittering ball of energy.

"Clearly there's something else, otherwise oi'd be back at home right now." It rolled his eyes and pointed down towards the ground.

 

"Don't care where you go. Don't follow me."

"Y'don't get much of a choice there."

"Oi'm only warning you one more time--"

As soon as the words left Roadhog's lips, it teleported in front of him, pressing its index finger onto Hog's chest.

"Or what? Y'can't do shit ta me, and oi can't do much to you...well, I could." Its finger trailed down Hog's chest, sending a heated pain in its wakes before being shoved away.

"Back off!"

 

The Witch. He needed to get to the witch now to figure out what the hell this curse entailed, and why he was stuck still with this gremlin.

His pace quickened. It would take him until morning to get back to the hut, but he needed answers _now_.

The demon giggled before blinking away again. Roadhog took the opportunity to get moving. 

 

But unbeknownst to him, a small ember hovered in his shadow, a minuscule flicker of a flame trailing Roadhog's every move.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a level of agency in Roadhog's strut, a pressing need to find the hag who tried to pull one over on him. 

Sure, he should have known that woman was up to no good, but he didn't expect _this_ much commotion over some sheets of metal.

Perhaps she wanted a reason to level that town, and Roadhog just gave it to her. 

 

Hog shook his head at the thought. Everything was in ash, there was nothing--or nobody--to salvage. 

 

The gruesome spectacle at Junkertown took a mental toll on the powerhouse of a man, but he plugged on. He had means to protect himself if the witch decided on pork for dinner.

 

The temperature had dropped signifiicantly when the infernal pyre dissipated, and Roadhog was grateful that demon wasn't around to bother him. 

Even though his arms and chest were chilly, it felt as if his thighs and back were nestled next to a warm hearth. Roadhog dismissed it as some degree burn still searing away at his skin and nerves. He'd address it properly when he returned back home. 

 

He was still a couple miles from his base, and another few from the mad woman's hut, but there was no way in hell he was going to walk through that hag's property on foot. If she could summon creatures from the depths of hell, reanimating whatever was in those shallow graves was a definite possibility. 

And if there weren't reanimated corpses, there could've been booby-trapped holes laced with spikes at the bottom to catch prey. 

It was a common enough practice in the outback, so he wasn't going to find out the hard way. 

 

Roadhog tried not to think of himself as nothing more than some bleeding pig, and hustled double-time back to his bike.

 

\--

 

Waxy leaves fell from the bush as Roadhog yanked his bike from its hiding place. It seemed okay, and had just enough fuel to get to where he needed to go before requiring another charge.  
Throwing a leg over his bike, he started to wonder about that demon.

Roadhog supposed the curse was in fact fulfilled, realizing the Queen and her posse of idiots perished in the most debasing way fathomable.

That creature incinerated them, laughing and hooting all the while. He remembered looking dead into those vile amber eyes, pools of liquid gold that seemed to resemble the wild, unabashed flames it conjured up itself. 

 

No, not vile, Roadhog thought. 

Or maybe.

 

The junker had to rethink the circumstances into something he could process better. 

 

Had the execution been the machination of man, he might have actually enjoyed the full spectacle. 

If a troupe of wasters planned for the Queen's demise this way, hell, Roadhog would have brought a snack and settled on the roof of his base to watch, binoculars in tow.

 

A stiff breeze swayed from the direction he was heading, scraping itself along his raw hide. Roadhog only hissed, still feeling a bit warm on his back before revving off.

\-- 

The burial grounds looked a bit different than before, but Roadhog couldn't immediately place why.

He could feel it though. Something ominous lurking amongst them. 

 

It was dark as pitch yet Roadhog refused to flick on his chopper's front lights for vision. Spooking the witch wasn't an option, and if anything was gonna go down, he'd rather be heard first than seen.

 

As he neared the shack, discomfort swelled in Roadhog's chest. He looked up towards the windmill to find most of the heads missing.

 

The front door was wide open, and Hog could actually look straight in and see the destroyed furniture with no mystic veils shrouding the interior. He kicked the stand to his bike and raced inside, disbelief clouding his mind completely. 

 

There was nothing left but cruor, the destroyed roof, and the sigil used earlier to summon the creature. The human parts were moved, with minimal traces of blood pointing where they could have been dragged off to or used for. 

 

Not a trace of the witch.  
Roadhog clenched around the grip of his gun.

 

Glancing back down at the summoning circle, he could only glare at the pulsing red glow, breathing on its own. 

A rush of hot wind crept up Roadhog's back, and a soft tug on his long ponytail set him on edge.

 

"Well if oi knew you were a cannibal, oi'd left that broad on th' spit for ya! Y'clean up well, but this place reeks of human flesh!" 

 

He shoved the demon aside before pulling it back in to clock it on its jaw. His knuckles crunched against its face, shaking off the pain before questioning internally. How long had he been followed? And why was it still here? 

Roadhog snatched and lifted the safety off his gun and pointed it directly at the creature. Despite the impressive set of horns protruding from its forehead, it seemed most of Hog's gun was able to comfortably rest on its face.

Hog waited, quietly, patiently for some form of trickery or retaliation.

 

The creature just wiped its mouth, finding it difficult to lift itself back up to its feet. 

 

"You," the demon started, voice boiling and gargled. Roadhog locked his eyes on it, preparing himself for whatever it was going to throw him. 

"Y'didn't summon me, did ya?" It coughed before looking at its entry point into the world, and up at the roof. A brief chuckle came through before he pushed himself from off the ground. 

"Oi get it now. Whoever summoned me made a fool outta ya, didn't they--" Before the sentence was finished, fire flew from its mouth as the gun connected with his jaw. He spat out a few embers before glaring back up at Roadhog again, this time smiling ear to ear.

"...The worse part is y'got played by another demon! Y'traded your soul for a quickie by yours truly, but then..." 

Its own jeers started to peeter off as it continued to look around the shack. Roadhog watched as the demon shoved the gun away from his face and hobbled about the room, concern growing with furrowed brows and an exaggerated scowl. It went about analyzing everything it could; tasting rancid blood and looking under warped floorboards were just a few inspections it did to survey the place.

 

For a few moments, the demon stopped moving entirely, and Roadhog never thought he'd witness hellspawn with such fear on its face.

 

"There'r'not too many of my brethren with enough power to summon their mates, especially me," His finger traced the edge of the summoning circle before rising from his squat. 

"S'not right. Somethin' ain't right about all this." It started to pace nervously in place, breaking out into what seemed to be a full-fledged conversation with itself. 

 

Roadhog could give two shits. 

In a swift motion, he grabbed the demon by its bandolier and turned him to face his mask.

 

"If my soul was taken, give it back now."

"That ain't how that works...unless, you know, you take a worse deal with another such as myself."

 

Hog grunted. It wasn't what he wanted to hear and his patience was thinning. Without much thought, he pinned the demon to the side of the wall with his right hand. It struggled slightly, whimpering as it realized its current strength didn't mean much to the bigger man. 

 

"Once you sign a deal," it struggled, desperately trying to piece words together, "there's no way to undo the sale. Been that way long before y'humans started crawling the surface.

 

The demon wheezed as the clutch around its neck tightened. 

 

"Oi can--"

"No," Roadhog replied, vicing his grip even tighter. Though instead of violent protest and fight, soft whimpering and the faintest of moans eased from the demon's throat, followed by a hefty sigh that erred closer to pleasure than pain.

 

Roadhog dropped it immediately, and it clutched at its neck, lapping in air and bursting into a giggle fit.

After being able to breathe properly again, it ran its claws against the wall, clinging to it to bring itself back to its feet. 

A quick rub and rotation of its neck and it was back to its off-putting chipper banter.

 

"Y'want your soul back, don't ya? Then y'probably shouldn't piss me off--"

"You said I had to make another deal with a demon." Roadhog interrupted, still looking around the hut for any sort of clues. "How do I summon one myself?" 

 

The creature's face fell comically flat before scrunching up in anger. 

"Oi'm right here, ya drongo! Y'don't need to summon another bloke if i'm right here!" 

 

"I don't need another city in flames, and clearly you've been summoned already. I just need to find the witch so I can have my soul back--"

"Haven't you been listening? There's no witch, just another like me who's been able to fly under the radar a bit--"

 

"What can you do if you can't even defend yourself against me?"

 

The creature looked away towards the door, a despondent gaze dripping with shame. It knew it wasn't as strong as when it was in Junkertown. It could barely instill fear in a regular person in its current state, and the behemoth of a man before him was unmoved and unwavering.

 

Still, the demon knew it had worth. Value. Talents that made it absolutely indispensible, irreplacable. 

"I'm only this way 'cause the demon who summoned me ain't nowhere nearby. Could be floating around in space for all I know.

"Oi can track the other one down...y'know, the one that summoned me. Even help ya kill 'er if y'like. Y'seen what I can do, but I can't like this, not with her as the original summoner so far away. I can't even feel her presence, mate. 

"All y'need to do is enter into a contract with me. Oi'll stay by your side until it's time to collect, and binding with me'll give y'perks as well. It'll be a 50-50 arrangement, yeah?"

 

Roadhog's mask bore into its reddened face and glossy eyes. 

 

"You're not losing anything out of this."

"Th'hell I am, I become your concubine until you finally decide to croak! Sure i'll be free to sorta do as I please, but I'm at your mercy for th'most part...unless I try ta kill ya or something--but I'm not that kinda demon, just so you know--"

"Shut up," Roadhog snapped. He pulled his hook from his side and held the sharpened edge in his right hand. 

 

The demon's face lit up instantly, understanding that this was the bigger man's way of accepting his proposal.

 

"I want results. You find me the hag that put this in motion, or I'll find a way to make sure hell can't even save you."

A sly smile creeped on the demon's face. It licked its lips before cutting its own flesh to release blood from its palm. 

 

"Right, no problem," was all it whispered before walking back to the demon circle it was summoned from. Hands weren't creeping from its depths like before, but a small crater sealed off was left in its wake. The creature stood ontop of it and held out its hand.

"Gimme some blood, let's make this quick."

Roadhog made the incision crudely, and the creature watched as blood dripped from the center of his hand before white flesh revealed itself. 

"Y'cut a bit deep there, didn't ya," it giggled with curious enthusiasm before extending its arm. "Want this ta last a bit, hmm?"

 

There wasn't an immediate feeling Hog could place when the blood pact was bound. He expected some level of gut wrenching pain, or a removal of one's self temporarily as a sign of what's to come in the future.

 

The sigil beneath the demon glowed, and as it closed its eyes it exhaled softly. 

It was an audible release of tension that Hog found inexplicably curious.

Its veins glowed redder than its skin, a sign of revitalization coursing through its body. 

Cinders on the tips of its hair rekindled themselves, and the originally patchy tufts were supplanted by full-on flames. Eyes shifted red, reminiscent of a molten core.

Roadhog motioned to take a step back, but the grip on his hand from the demon prevented that entirely. 

Whatever physical power he had over the creature before was long gone. 

 

Just as soon as its head wisped up did the flames subside. 

It released Roadhog's meaty hand and plopped to the floor, devoid of consciousness.

Out of reflex, the bigger junker swooped up what he figured was his new familiar. 

 

Two pokes to its ribcage granted no response. Hog grunted and flung it over its shoulder, hoping it would come to by the time he returned to his base. If there was anything left to do here, it would have to wait until tomorrow -- the ritual sapped all the energy he had left.

 

Gun and gremlin in tow, he motioned back to his bike carefully, just in case there were still traps about that he didn't discover earlier. On the back of his bike was a small enough space for something as svelte as the creature, so he plopped it, belly down, onto the tattered seat. 

Just as he started to swing his leg over the chopper, he witnessed the demon slowly start to dissipate into smoke, until finally there was a pile of red soot left on its seat.

 

Roadhog's eyes went wide. Did it actually die?

Thick fingers reached out to touch what seemed to be ashes, but watched as it was carried away by the wind. 

Still, Roadhog continued to reach for the spot the creature was.

 

Calloused fingers did nothing to shield him from the burn. He retracted his hands, realizing that a searing heat was still present. 

Curious, yet simultaneously losing interest, he hopped on his bike and left the questions for when he got back to base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been going through some mental health shit since october really. still am, if i'm being 100.
> 
> Writing's been sorta helping...sorta.
> 
> i'll try to update a little more. 
> 
> cheers.


	5. Chapter 5

Right as Roadhog pulled up to his warehouse, the bike hiccuped the last bit of power it had left. The tires resisted against the earth as horsepower waned, and Hog felt his own energy fading in tandem with his ride.

He almost tripped over himself as he swung his leg to dismount, limbs leaded and aching more than usual. 

A metal button was mashed right at the entryway, followed by a faint yet insistent beeping. As he trudged further into his base, gratings of a large rolling door screeched until nestled on the ground, barring the world from interfering with him anymore.

His effects were shedding off him with each step closer towards his bed, a trail littering the floor like breadcrumbs. With his mask finally being the last article strewn aside, he fell freely onto the bed, tugging on his ponytail to loosen the tension binding his hair. 

An attempt to breathe deeply was made, but was met with coughs that wracked his abdominals.

Sleep was very much welcome, but Roadhog made the mistake of rehashing the day's events.

 

His body was dead weight, but the new gash on his hand throbbed in pain. The plan was to clean and treat it, but he'd do it in the morning and let the pain remind him that all that's happened was indeed reality.

Weary eyes looked over the laceration once more. 

 

The pact seemed successful, so where was the creature?

 

Hog scoffed internally before scowling. It wasn’t that he entirely cared what happened to him post-mortem, but the idea of his soul being held captive by someone or _something_ irked him to no end.

 

No one had stolen from Hog and lived to tell tales about it.

 

He clenched the fist of the wounded hand and sighed heavily before attempting rest again.

If that loud-mouthed demon played him too, he'd keep well his promise to dispense consequences somehow, someway.

 

Still, he never thought in a thousand years something so supernatural would cross paths with him. If anything, he usually was treated as if he were otherworldly, some being who couldn't have been wholly mortal due to size and sheer stamina. 

It tickled him, that kind of infamous awe. 

Hog wondered if this demon...or the one with his soul...would be the ones to lay him to rest.

 

A broken window allowed a rush of cold air into the space. It enveloped Roadhog's body and hardened pierced nipples before passing on. He shifted himself so his hair would serve as a little extra warmth.

Consciousness waning, he noted that his stomach stayed abnormally toasty, even though the rest of his body had goosebumps all over. It felt like a small comforting blanket just big enough to cover his hog tattoo, and its warmth seized the endless thoughts racing about in his head.

Eventually, the junker lulled to sleep.

 

\--

 

Thick digits found their way into the ducts of Roadhog's eyes, pinching away last night’s sleep. He started to pry them wide, but the bright sun was already offending them closed. Defeated by dawn, he huffed out before throwing his hand down to his side again.

Even after what Hog deemed to be a decent night's rest, it still felt like he was cemented to the bed. Growling at the thought of his age actually starting to catch up with him, he motioned to shift his leg off the bed before actually opening his eyes. 

A quick double-take left him in surprise. He was indeed being weighed down.

 

Curled up into a ball was a red blur, nestled right on top Hog's stomach, emanating heat that was much more suited for evenings than scorching mornings like this one.

He wanted to pick it up and toss it aside, but he still didn't know how much power it had over him, or anything really about the state of the pact they made.

Besides, Hog found it almost bearable when it was quiet and non-moving like this. 

 

Taking a closer look, the demon wasn't hideous or grotesque. If anything, the lanky creature was surprisingly easy on the eyes, albeit to wasteland standards. Perhaps its humanoid figure was to blame. Mutated and obscene was more so the expectation from an underworld spawn. 

The demon's chest rose and fell, and Hog observed his familiar a bit more closely as it rested. Its arm and leg were nubs on one side, despite him seeing them already as lethal weapons. He figured the creature could augment and shift its appendages with some sort of demon magicks. 

Like this, it slept without any immediate protection. Roadhog made a mental note.

He continued to glance about, watching as its slender tail whipped about and brushed up against Mako's thighs. It was a feeling most unwelcome, as time to time the tip of his tail would feel like sandpaper, with all the miniscule spikes jutting from its base. 

Hog wanted to get up from the bed to mix and fill more hogdrogen containers. He was a bit overdue, and needed to get himself in some sort of functioning order before tasking himself with finding his soul.

 

"Mmnnrgg..."

Uncurling itself into a starfish stretch, it sighed before draping itself over Hog's entire torso with a wry smile on its face.

"Mm, s'been a while since oi've waken up in a mortal's bed! God yer comfy! Shame I was beat yesterday, could've _definitely_ shown ya a good ti--"

Roadhog took his arm and swept him entirely off his stomach onto the bare concrete before sitting up on his bed. 

"Shut up." 

With a poof, the demon disappeared before reappearing overtop the larger man.

 

"Y'not gettin' rid of me that easy. Oi just woke up, and I'm _hungry_." It straddled right over Roadhog's groin, grinding on top of him trying to fish a response.

"Th'hell kinda mortal are ye? No wood in th'morning? Y'equipment broke or somethin'?" 

Roadhog could only stare at the creature on top him.

He wouldn't say it, but it was taking a great deal of energy and a recollection of yesterday's events to keep him calm and collected. Another one of the demon's stunts would result in a brawl. 

"Off. Now."

A hard sigh and a tumble to the ground left the demon sitting on a floor in a huff. 

"Y'just about boring as Hell," he snarled, voice elevating in a dangerous manner. Roadhog took to grabbing his hook just shy of underneath his bed. 

"Oi wasn't kidding when I said I was hungry. I need ta feed."

"Sounds like a personal problem--"

"It'll be yours if ya don't help me soon, you're the closest thing 'ere!" 

"The Pact--"

"My survival trumps our bond.” Its tail whipped around towards its ear, poking and prodding until a small clump of wax revealed itself. 

“I find that hard to believe,” was all Roadhog uttered before rising from bed. 

 

He moved past the creature towards what functioned as a refrigerator. Yanking it open resulted in an audible creak, and meaty hands rummaged around for something edible. 

A few cans of tuna in olive oil and some expired beans. He would have to pick up a few other jobs if he wanted to eat better in the future. 

Or, he could knock a couple heads. The thought did not escape him for a moment. 

 

With one of his rings, he made a small incision in the tin and threw it towards the back of the demon's head. It almost reached its mark, but the demon caught the dripping container with its tail before turning to look at it.

Hog made another mental note.

 

“Wot’s this then?”

 

“Food. You said you were hungry.”

It seemed its eyes dimmed at what was presented to him. He glared at the nearly crumpled tin, and then back at Roadhog.

The look was unappreciated, and it wasn’t long before the bigger man came over and snatched it back from his familiar’s tail. 

 

“Can’t be that fucking hungry then.”

“Y’got me all wrong,” it started, throwing its hand and arm up in the air. “Eating like that don’t do a thing f’me.”

Roadhog squinted trying to understand, and the demon carried on.

“Food ‘n’ shit’s for humans. Oi need raw energy--anger, greed, lust--somethin’ with as much fire as me! 

“That, or good ol'...soul food, hehe. That's the messy route though.”

Emptying the contents of the cans into a skillet, Hog ignored the awful pun and fried up his food. The tatty pan ripped at the limp skin on the fish, only leaving him more frustrated than before. 

If normal nourishment was out of the question, then whatever sated the hellion would just have to be acquired. Roadhog couldn’t bear watching his thrall stare at him with that wide-eyed gaze any longer. It was borderline predatory.

“So what are you telling me for.”

“Can’t just leave. Gotta have yer blessings!” His tail whipped against the floor before pointing towards the exit.

"Just be back here in an hour. You got a job to do. And don’t cause no trouble.”

From the corner of his eyes, Roadhog watched his thrall squeal with joy, roll on the floor and pose for attention before clearing his throat. 

"What--"

"Yer sweeter than you let on. Ta-ta!" it giggled before poofing into a red pile of soot. 

\--

Simple meal devoured and settled, Hog went about the next thirty or so minutes doing exactly what he said he would.

He got his medicine in order, and even had a little time to fashion some more custom shrapnel bullets for that gun of his before echoes of screams could be heard on the wind.

It didn’t phase him initially, until it became incessantly louder, nearing his base with unreasonably shrill cries from what sounded like women.

“The hell,” he mumbled, grabbing his gun and jamming ammo in it before cocking it out of safety.

Right as he stepped outside, the sun harassed him but the sounds did not. Rather, they were swapped with faint sounds of slurps, barely audible moans, and an eventual trail of red easing from around the corner of the frame Roadhog stood.

 

Eyes wide and throat lumped, he hustled around to see just what lurked around the way. 

He felt his stomach start to bubble and churn, bile forced back down his throat as he tried to remain stoic.

Two legs -- both belonging to different women were thrown aside, blood still squirting and oozing from them. They were crudely ripped, small tendons, veins, and other intricacies littered on the sandy earth. 

The demon held onto one corpse, taking what was now a knife of an arm and gutting the innards of what looked to be a fairly young girl with bark brown hair and skin relatively untouched by the beaming ball in the sky. Who knows where it found her from. 

His other hand was preoccupied, nails making small but deep cuts all over the torso. There were quaint giggles here and there before extra slurpings of blood. 

 

Roadhog couldn’t avert his gaze. 

His eyes shifted and he batted his eyes beneath his mask in confusion as he heard a very faint huff.

The girl, she still drew breath.

Her eyes were long lolled to the back of her head, but she was far too in shock to react as the creature took to her left arm and aligned his own to begin the amputation.

“Cut it out!” Roadhog roared, opening fire at the actual evil before him. 

It didn’t respond at first, still drinking and lapping up the blood everywhere before removing its arm. 

Roadhog shot again, but with quickness, the demon’s tail deflected the incoming barrage of bits. 

There was no time to react. 

Hog lifted his mask and hurled back up his small fish and beans into a taupe putrid mess beside him as the spawn took its claws and bore right into her chest.

Blood geysered from her mouth before she finally deflated entirely. The creature seized her heart, desperately trying to continue its job before finally ebbing away. 

In a solid gulp it was consumed, and Roadhog looked from the corner his eye at the menace before him. 

It finished off the second prey in quick fashion, seeing she was already at death’s door. Another jab into the other woman’s torso hailed another heart and it too was consumed.

 

There was a heavy sigh, erring between one hunger being sated and another on edge, and Roadhog spit the remnants of his discomfort on the ground before him.

“Clean that shit up,” was all he could muster before trudging back inside.

 

As soon as he distanced himself, he chucked his gun to the side and fell to the floor to completely remove his mask.

It was hot, so fucking hot under his skin, and in his mind, he couldn’t fathom exactly what he was dealing with.

The familiar wasn’t his to control, and he could be torn asunder and tossed aside just like those girls at any given moment.

His breath still staggered and his mind swam endlessly around options, concepts, ways to reclaim some sort of control on his life before it was too late.

 

He hadn’t even felt that brash tail scritch against his hide, barely dragging until it reached right behind his neck. He hadn’t felt it slip behind his hair, and it snapped him back to reality violently. 

“Sensitive there, aren’t ya?” It smiled, serrated teeth grinning wide. 

 

Roadhog couldn’t place it. 

 

Despite the fucking bloodbath outside, there was innocence in that boyish smile before him. 

“Who...the fuck are you exactly?”

The demon’s eyes actually opened fully, revealing a quite brilliant amber-ochre hue. 

“Well, no mortal’s ever asked me that before. Normally it’s what, or... _what_ usually, actually--

“But I can assure you, oi’m just y’run-o’-th’mill type.”

Roadhog just glared back at him, pout unwavering. 

 

“Err,” the demon started, trying to test waters, “Look, it’s been a while, oi might’ve lost meself about out there, but--”

“Don’t fucking do that around here again,” Roadhog muttered. “If that’s the only way you survive, do it where I can’t see it.”

He’d rather the being didn’t do it at all, but this seemed like an inevitability no different than some raiders trying to take someone’s shit. It just happens. 

The demon’s eyes looked towards the exit, able hand rubbing its adaptive arm in discomfort. 

“Alright, mate” it whispered before snapping into a more gleeful demeanor.

“Oh, oi know! I can...I can bring ‘em back yeah?”

“What?” Hog rose from the floor, still a little unsettled by the different shade of gore he’d been witnessing as of late.

“Just..." It looked like it was gonna say something, but shook its head and flailed its arms instead. "Look, oi can’t do this all th’time, but I can pull something out from m’book of tricks.

“After all, I do have their souls.” It tapped its belly and smiled before Roadhog turned away in disgust. 

 

“Just get fucking ready. We’re leaving tonight--”

“Oh yeah? Where to then?”

In all honesty, Roadhog hadn’t the slightest idea. But that wasn’t gonna stop him front investigating what he could.

“Junkertown first.”

“Fer what? Ain’t shit there, oi razed the place! Y’know I had to go out ten miles before I even could hear a beating pulse in the area?”

Roadhog shot a cold gaze at his thrall before it realized its error and looked away. 

“Besides, I got a better plan. Y’can come with me ta th’ Below fer a bit while I get y’girls back. Plus, we can snoop around, see where that mysterious witch 'o' yours went. Y’just gotta...y’know...”

He started to mumble and Roadhog started loading his bag in anticipation.

When words didn’t come, he growled louder than he realized. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just stay close when we get down there. Ain’t safe for yer type too tough, 'n I don't want nothing to happen to ya. We should be in’n’out’n no time!”

"You mean you don't want nothing to happen to me because then you're in a shit situation."

Roadhog's thrall cut then rolled his eyes before standing straight up to stretch. "Y'wanna find your soul or not?" 

“You want me to go to Hell.”

“It’s not as hot as it looks. Fuckin’ cooler down there than this shit up here, that’s fer sure!” It hunched back over and fell into a giggle fit on the floor.

Roadhog couldn’t mask his grunt of a laugh.

 

“Next time though, y’ should just sleep with me, it saves lives y'know--” It wiggled its eyebrows, but Roadhog immediately stopped laughing and looked away. 

“No. Shut up.

"And clean your fucking face, I can see the blood."

"Oh--oops! Hehehe, sorry mate!"

"And hurry up, I ain't got all day!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> them girls'll be aight, give it a bit. well..not...entirely aight, but you know...aight...
> 
> ...
> 
> I mean they dead but..
> 
> ...they'll BE AIGHT.


	6. Chapter 6

Roadhog figured after so many years scowling at what life threw at him, the muscles on his face shouldn’t jump, or twitch, or even flinch.

So naturally, anger took further hold as he felt a facial cramp creep beneath the flesh of his cheeks, throbbing ever so often. For some reason, they couldn’t keep up with his emotions. 

To add insult to injury, the slight temperature change radiating extra heat in his mask only reassured him that his patience was thinning rapidly.

 

In three days he’d been to the same accursed shanty three times. He quizzed himself, wondering why fate led him here time and time again. 

If fate was a person, he'd have left them on his hook to hang for a long while. 

 

He figured he’d burn the decrepit hut to the ground after all this business was over. 

 

A tantric humming of a netherworldly tune brought him back from internal rage. Perhaps he’d get his thrall to burn it down for him. 

 

Junkertown was just on the horizon, still singed with carrion birds taking up residence there.

 

Still too soon for burning references, he sulked. 

 

“Y’ready ta go, mate?”

Giddy as can be, Roadhog’s creature galloped in place from foot to peg and back again in utter anticipation. 

“Will my gun work down there?”

A quick chuckle came from the demon but was curtly silenced when laughter wasn’t matched.

It whipped its tail about before standing up straight to move closer towards Roadhog.

 

“Hmm,” it started, taking a gander at Hog’s modified shotgun. 

Roadhog’s eyes veered down towards his own thigh, where the creature’s extra appendage fluttered about. He shifted his stance back a bit for distance, but it seemed magnetically attracted to the side of his leg. Was it trying to aggravate him on purpose?

Hog looked back up and noticed it didn’t seem intentional though, as its elongated face was poked down one end of the gun entirely, nose sniffing about for who-knows-what. 

 

“Safety’s not off--”

“Y’remember that toime ya tried ta shoot me?” It sang out, a tone pitched a bit higher for mocking. ”How’d that work out fer ya?” As it pulled away from the barrel, a shrill squeal followed. 

 

Hog grunted, watching as it went back to analyzing his kit. The bigger man’s eyes wandered about the walls that used to house the witch, or whatever his creature said it was now. If Hog looked close enough, he could see really faint etchings on some of the panels keeping it together. Not a normal, earthen script, but something quite off-putting with each hook and jagged line dragged like the author was pained just to scribe it. 

Even knowing that, there was virtually nothing that he could decipher or even guess at that would lead him in the direction of his soul. He pouted at that fact. 

 

“Well, with th'way it currently is, nah. Can’t harm a thing down there. But!” It stood tall once more, index finger pointed towards the heavens in matter-of-factness, “Oi just happen ta have something that’ll work out fer ya shiela there.” 

 

Roadhog leered in skepticism before shifting his attention to the svelte demon before him. It ripped a bomb off its bandolier before snatching both Roadhog’s gun and hook from his hand and side respectively. 

Before the bigger man could protest, two more bombs were shoved into the barrels and another was very gingerly opened. Roadhog’s eyes watched, curious as to its contents.

“This here’s a special mix only known by yours truly,” he boasted. His transmutable arm started to shift with a great deal of strain into what wanted to be a replica of a hand, but fell short, coming to something more claw-like featuring only three fingers. 

Beads of sweat fell down its forehead as its transformed arm trembled with the opened bomb. The contents were flowing, glowing a phoenix of colours. It dribbled a small amount on the ground, and the floor instantly started to corrode. 

Roadhog took several steps back, unsure if he wanted his weapons around something so dreadfully potent. Making new munitions would take eons, even if Junkertown was essentially his personal scrapyard now. 

 

“Yeah, that’s probably th’right thing ta do,” it hummed. “Maybe a few more steps just for safety.” 

 

Hog complied, eyes watching the process steadily. 

Even though the floor had been burned through, whatever liquid was in those bombs didn’t dissipate or lose its form. It stayed pooled in one spot, like a drop of dew on parched earth.  
Unmoving, unwavering, yet potent and contained within itself. 

The demon scratched with its good arm at the sweat accumulating on its brow and cupped a small bit with its nail. It put the drop right alongside the contained corrosive before hacking up what seemed to be a loogie.

A good scratch at the back of its throat brought forth a sizeable fireball that landed dangerously close to whatever was in that bomb. The flames rested itself right on the sweat from earlier, and an extremely nervous set of laughs screeched from the creature.

“Hell mate, oi almost killed us there!”

Roadhog’s heart thundered in his ribcage, but his discomfort was ignored entirely by the demon as it set back to work.

“Almost done here...” With its unstable hand, it picked up a small drop of the lava-like fluid and placed it onto its flaming excrements before chanting something over it.

Words weren’t audible, but it was clear something was happening; The blazing red transformation of its irises and the newly blackened scleras came and went fairly quickly, and soon it grabbed Roadhog’s weighted hook by the chains and dragged it over. 

“Well, fuck. C’mere big guy.”

Roadhog stared at the creature, mentally debating if he wanted to take the chance.

“Oi’m not gonna kill ya, but I need a lil’ help! T’day would be grand!”

Ignoring the sass, Roadhog moved carefully around the danger zone and hovered over the creature’s left side. 

“Here, cut me right here.” It motioned with its eyes that it wanted to be injured right behind its adaptive arm. 

“What?”

“Blood, oi need it. C’mon, already!”

“Can’t you bite your lip or something--”

“Will you just fucking--”

Roadhog’s hook was in its grasp, and he didn’t have a pocket knife on him. The only thing reminiscent of a weapon situated itself on his left foot. 

Without any further words, he kicked into his thrall, boot cleanly piercing through his demon’s rotator and out through the muscle and skin. 

A sharp hiss was heard, and Roadhog struggled to retract his foot before he walked over and stomped his foot down. Blood had dripped from the tip of the spike, and Roadhog watched semi-surprised as the gaping hole started to mend itself instantly.

“Could be a bit more gently next time, yeah?” Its smile faded before smearing its blood along the sharpened edge of Roadhog’s hook. 

The alloy glowed brightly before seeping into the metal, disappearing entirely. 

Next, the demon took its mixture and smeared it across the entire hook, until it too beamed. But the edge of the blade remained stained, and the pattern looked like pulsing veins, heaving with their own life. 

 

“There, all done!” It quickly shifted its arm back to its dormant state and smiled at its handiwork before picking up both the gun and the hook. 

“So,” Roadhog started, unclear about the purpose of everything that just occurred. 

“My bombs can blow up anyone and anything. And I mean _anything_. Oi once shoved a molo’ mix of this stuff up an angel’s arse, and the fireworks were fucking spectacular!” 

Hog couldn’t tell if it was an exaggeration or recollection, but he was considerably uncomfortable with it shaking one of its bombs with such ample vigor.

“These'r' the perfect size for yer gun there. They should shoot out normally, unless yer gun jams. Hope it doesn’t, you’ll die it if it does!” Its arms motioned of a huge explosion followed by utter deflation. 

 

It reattached the recoil of Roadhog’s hook to his pants with its tail whilst handing the actual hook back to him. 

“And this. Well, this’ll do some major damage to any demon, wraith, banshee, angel--oh, you name it, yer hook’ll flay ‘em good! They won’t be able ta heal like oi just did when ya kicked me.”

“Is it safe to touch,” he queried, holding the handle and turning it about to observe it some more.

“Yeah, so as long as we’re bound! That shit would peel your skin clean if ya wasn’t paired with me!”

Roadhog cut his eyes at the gloating mess of a demon before looking at his weapons again.

If he was gonna fight, this whole weapons upgrade seemed inevitable.

 

Hog remembered what his thrall said once more and got to thinking.

“You’re the only one with this mix?”

“Yea!”

“So how do you damage each other?”

“Magicks. And we’re of same ilk, so we know what makes us tick. Think of it like weight classes ‘r somethin’!”

The reference caused Roadhog to throw an unnoticed side eye. 

“Ya humans are at the bottom, ‘cause yer weak and everything. But ya know what makes ya tick. So ya create things and weapons that’ll work to kill yerself. Oi mean, not that it takes much, but ya get what i’m sayin’!

“We’re just a bit sturdier, so we go about killin’ each other differently!

“Though I _really_ think yer mum knocked up one o’ us or somethin’ cause--”

A long whistle started to tweet from the demon, but Roadhog raised his amended hook at its lean neck. “Shut up.”

 

“Alright, alright. Just know though, them bombs or that hook ain’t gonna hurt me, so don’t get ta tryin’ nothin’.”

Hog lowered his arm and reattached his hook to his side as well. 

Without this pain in the ass, he probably wouldn’t have been to defend himself in the unknown he was about to traverse.

His throat frogged up before he steadied his mind.

“Thanks.”

His creature’s neck whipped around unusually quick before shooting him a thumbs up.

“One more time for me ego, mate!”

“Fuck off.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the depths..

“Well, we best be on our way, now that ya set ‘n ready!” 

The unsteady gait of the demon pulled Roadhog’s entire focus from his reforged weapons. It moved towards the ominous crater it originally hailed from, scraping at its surface with its good hand. Earth was tussled between its fingertips before slipping back onto the ground again. 

“We can still use this as a portal. Whoever summoned me wanted me around a while oi reckon, else they would’ve sealed the thing right proper. They must be pissed ya took me from ‘em with the new pact and all!”

Hog merely grunted at the thought. 

“Remember what oi said earlier though. Stick by m’side when oi tell ya to, no wandering or checking out--”

“I’m not you,” Roadhog interjected. This was the third time it said the same thing; the picture was crystal clear. 

Instead of a smart comment, the demon’s lips curled into a pout. 

“Nah, yer _not_ me,” it finally huffed, before stomping its foot in the centre of the crater. “‘ ’T’s’why oi’m goin’ off like a broken record. 

“These are demons mate. Supernatural bein’s. Ain’t ya normal fare you been dealin’ with up here. And once we go Below, they’re gonna smell the life on ya ‘n do whatever they can ta rip ya apart.

“Of course, _oi_ won’t let that happen,” the demon sang out in a lighter tone, hands stark on chiseled hips for heroic emphasis, “but y’need to be on guard! No dawdlin’ about, yea?”

“I’ll hold my own, with or without you.”

“Y’say that now,” it trailed off, shifting focusing towards the ground. 

With another stomp, the earth started to tremor, and an explosion of ghastly wails shrieked from the hole once more. Skinless arms and hands scraped at the demon’s good leg, latching on and dragging serrated nails along its thigh and calf. A few straggling digits impaled its skin completely, drawing blood before beginning to slowly drag it beneath into the swirling chasm of endless, flailing arms.

“Oh, bugger off, would ya?” 

Roadhog watched what should have caused it excruciating pain, as the piercings from nails and claws slashed and dug deeper into his familiar’s good leg. 

The descent into the now opened portal sucked in his thrall like quicksand. It wasn’t until it held out its clawed hand did Roadhog see actual stress on his familiar.

“Y’sure like t’take your time when it ain’t you gettin’ all scratched up! Take my hand so we can get goin’!”

A thick neck made a usually conspicuous swallow invisible. Roadhog’s stomach churned with a feeling he thought fell dormant a lifetime ago. 

Raw, unadulterated fear. 

It butterflied the acids in his gut and his blood pumped effervescently as adrenaline took hold. 

The reality of this unfathomable quest was settling into his mind. This would be a test of manipulating mortality and quick-witted adaptability. 

This was a step-up from the scourge left in the wake of the Omnic catastrophe.   
Something beyond men, machines, and the entire world he’d come to know. 

Roadhog figured that besides reclaiming his spiritual self, there had to be something down there he could return to the surface with to further tilt the odds of him surviving in the Outback.

A private smirk crossed his lips as he clasped his familiar’s left hand and stepped forward into the unknown. 

“Hold on big guy. Gonna be a bit of a ride.” 

 

In an instant, a wave of sweltering heat swirled about them, and Roadhog immediately started to drip bullets of sweat. His familiar ignited himself into a vented furnace spewing flames from its pores, and the evolution channeled enough force to blow the salty drops of perspiration right from Roadhog’s skin. 

The hut surrounding them started to deteriorate as well with sorcerous gale winds penetrating little cracks in the structure and exploiting them into shrapnel.

“Down we go,” it rumbled, usually trebled voice now octaves lowered thanks to its transformation. As they sunk into the abyss, the hands that pawed at the demon retracted themselves entirely, charred and punished for their earlier impatience. 

The gateway to Hell--at least that’s what Roadhog thought it was--wasn’t as chaotic as he expected. Dark earthen colours flickered past the lenses of his mask, with the frequent flash of his demon’s fiery aura coming into view. 

“Fuck,” it breathed, barely audible but not missed by the bigger man. 

From time to time, its thin, chapped lips would quiver into a grimace, and one could only wonder how much of a toll this was on the demon. However despite its initial discomfort, slinking through the esophagus of that tunnel was probably the calmest Roadhog had ever seen it, taken completely by focus on its forced journey downward. 

The further the descent, the more impaired Roadhog’s vision begame, blinded by pure darkness despite his familiar’s illumination. Perhaps mortal eyes weren’t equipped to view anything in such pitch. Perhaps more magick just disabled the opportunity for humans altogether.

Hog couldn’t physically feel the receding limbs reaching out towards the demon and himself due to them being repelled by otherworldly flames, but he could feel every pang of grief they possessed, sorrow seeping from their shriveled limbs and permeating his mind. It gnawed at the back of his brain, and made his body itch in ways impossible to physically scratch. He tried to wrap his head around visions of women and men and children screaming in agony, flashes of images of wailing mouths entering and leaving his eyes as if they were his own experiences playing over and over again on repeat.

Roadhog started grunting and hadn’t even realized it until the demon gave a quick smack to his cheek with its tail. 

It cut its eyes back towards him before re-focusing on the descent again, fire burning even brighter than before.

There was a cap to just how hot Roadhog felt despite him holding on to a living comet. He blamed their pact, and made yet another mental note.

Its grip on Roadhog’s thick and clammy hand tightened, followed by its tail snaking around his other wrist. 

He wasn’t sure why, but the added support eased the mental onslaught and anxiety, if for just a few seconds.

 

Before long, they were regurgitated from that narrow portal, and warped into an entirely new realm. 

Roadhog took a deep breath within his mask that wasn’t full of hot air. His demon extinguished the bulk of itself in a private sigh, before shrill chortles began again. Their descent was replaced with something closer to an injured boat, sinking sluggishly toward unknown, dready depths. 

Falling into Hell wasn’t the wild, gravity-pulling plummet human imaginations depicted it would be. If anything, Roadhog found the steady decline eerie. Hollow and devoid of sounds, the lack of life was disarming to say the least.

He felt it on his shoulders and deep within his chest cavity. Sure, his creature was leading him on, keeping tight hold of him as a mother would their child on a crowded street, but Roadhog sensed an actual pull, something tugging on his innards towards whatever rested at the bottom of it all. 

Dread was his only deduction, unless there really was a force pulling them in.  
He wouldn’t ask though. He’d rather face it himself.

 

He’d peer around some more, eyes strained as he tried to take in everything through a mask filled with condensation. 

A sugilite sky finally featured life, as black birds free-fell sporadically all around them, just as they too were. 

Until Roadhog looked closer. These were not avian creatures jettisoned by gravity. 

What initially looked like wings quickly focused into legs and arms, and Roadhog held his breath as thousands fell from what he could only think of as the heavens.

Bodies. 

Blackened bodies, shadows, burnt husks with arms still reaching towards whence they fell. 

Who were they? The consistency of them raining down alarmed Roadhog. 

If he listened close enough, a raucous of screams could be heard from every direction around him. Only the infinite distance between him and the fallen made the sight even remotely bearable. 

The Junker looked down, yet nothing greeted his eyes. The only thing changing _was_ the sky, and it shifted towards the absence of light the farther they dropped. 

Would they all just fall for eternity now? Surely the one with his soul was falling too?

Or were these _actual_ souls in these shriveled, whooping rinds?

 

“Sinners.”

The words snapped Roadhog from pensive thought and he tuned into the whooping voice.

“All of ‘em. Rapists. Murderers. Thieves, Swindlers.” 

It pointed with its free arm all around them, nub isolating particular carcasses like constellations the sky.

“Merchants. Doctors. Mothers. Doesn’t matter who, y’know.

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ sinner. But if you’re especially a shitter, y’find yourself here, even before ya die.

“Oi’m sure you’ve been here dozens of times when ya sleep. Af’t’a all, th’ first time ya even dream of fallin’, yer fate here’s sealed.”

 

Roadhog watched the corpses hail towards oblivion.

“Does it hurt them?”

“Wot, the fall? Eh, depends on what they’re like, or who they were. ‘N’ not just their actions, but who they _really_ were. 

“Fer example, some people do fucked up shit to protect other people, ‘n they’re not as tortured as some of the ones who don’t do shit with their lives at all.”

“Case by case basis,” Roadhog mumbled in understanding, watching a particularly frail body fall. Underdeveloped and miniature, he quickly realized that children weren’t exempt. 

“Pretty much, yea’.”

 

After all this was over, Hog wondered how long it would take for him to fall from the sky when the hogdrogen ran dry and his lungs would finally decide to give out.

He etched every soul he could into his mind, uncaring of who they were or what they did.

It only matter that eventually, this too would be his cold and lonely fate. 

 

\--

After what seemed to be an eternity of fading deeper into nothingness, colour re-emerged, flickering in Roadhog’s weary eyes. Who knew how long since they fell into that warped dimension, as standard astronomical indicators of time didn’t exist where they were.

He wanted to touch upon some solid ground already, grab his bearings, and snatch back what was stolen from him.

Things were clearer through his lenses now, as what passed for air was far more frigid from where they first descended. 

Reflexes guided Roadhog to rub some warmth back into his arms when a light tug paired with a newly warming feeling seeped around his left arm. 

Somehow he, in tired stupor, missed the feeling of the demon releasing his wrist and coiling its tail underneath Roadhog’s armpit and around his shoulder. 

A quick study was stolen from Roadhog as he tried to gauge how his thrall was faring. His deduction concluded nothing irregular. 

 

Knowingly, it tilted its head back and bore a cresented smile full of serrated teeth before waving its free arm again towards the horizon. 

“See over there?”

A colossal obsidian spire pierced the skyline. It stood shrouded in smoke and haze, the base of the crag invisible with Roadhog’s naked eyes. Small alcoves were cut into and all over the erratic mountainscape. A myriad of ebon-winged creatures flew in and out and around the hub from what Roadhog could gauge, however they were still too far to make out any greater details. 

“That’s Pandemonium. Rumour goes some blokes got released to th’surface and helped build blueprints for all y’mortal cities, includin’ that city I torched ta claim that shiela’s soul...y’know, the one that stole yer shit. 

“Come ta think of it, all them floaters we saw from earlier probably came from there!”

“Probably,” was all Roadhog could spare.

“Hopefully we won’t have ta go over there anytime soon,” it mumbled. “Might have a mob who wanna put me down fer good.”

The idea of someone or something else threatening its well-being piqued Roadhog’s curiousity. 

“What’d you do?”

 

“Well if ya willin’ ta keep it all a secret,” It squeaked before giggles poured from its mouth. “Oi suppose tellin’ won’t do no harm.

“Gotta wait ‘til later though. Time for you ta “hold yer own” for a bit, _your_ words.”

Before Roadhog could get any sort of question out, the tail keeping him connected and floating through the void ripped from around his arm, leaving a bloody laceration and a complete feeling of true gravity taking hold. 

In a split second decision, Roadhog blocked out the searing pain and threw his hook with that same injured arm to grab at the floating demon. 

The harpoon job was a success, and it winced as the interior spikes on Hog’s hook impaled his demon’s back, causing it to stutter in air before recollecting itself.

“Aww, ya gonna miss me?” It hissed, body rekindling anew. “Don’t worry, oi’ll pick ya up in a tick! Yer a sturdy bloke, the impact won’t kill ya!”

Gravity still weighed on Roadhog as he felt blood rush heavier towards his calves and feet. No way was he gonna fall from the sky like those others. He wasn’t gonna die here.

One hand clutched onto the chain, and then the other, repeatedly climbing up towards the suspended creature. 

Blackened ooze bubbled around the edges of the creature’s wound. Before long, the wound began closing, smelting itself around the hook’s internal spikes.It served as an even sturdier anchor for Roadhog to climb up.

Sweat dripped from underneath his mask down ridges of folded skin on his neck. He could see the creature, leer as it kept its eyes preoccupied on the bigger man shimmying up his own device. Roadhog’s arm was ready to surrender, with salt festering and settling in the new wound from such exertion, but still, he climbed.

“Oi really like it when you get riled up. Have oi told you that yet?” 

“Drop me again and I’ll cut your throat myself.”

 

As Roadhog almost reached the base of the chain, he watched as his familiar’s widened eyes shone bright with enthusiastic anticipation. 

“That a promise?” It chesired in a teethy, ear-to-ear beam.

“What?” 

“Didn’t take you as a ‘slicer’, but more of a ‘crusher’ type--” It twirled into a series of delicate barrel rolls mid-aire, chain squeezing around its gaunt frame and reeling Roadhog up the rest of the way in a comical fashion. When close enough, it grabbed him from under his arms with good hand and tail and bore directly into Roadhog’s own void-like mask, nose-to-snout.

“Tell ya what,” it hummed into Roadhog’s ear. Heat radiated from its mouth like a fully-bellowed forge, and a putrescent, almost sulphuric char nestled on its blackened tongue. Even with the mask, a small whiff wafted in, and the acrid stench reminded him of the two women devoured from earlier. 

“Oi’m gonna drop ya, and ya ain’t gonna do much about--” 

Roadhog jerked on the base of his hook still embedded in the demon’s back. It bit down on its bottom lip and scrunched its brows as the spikes started to re-tear the newly scabbed over areas. Roadhog could see a small amount of liquid dripping from its back before he stopped retracting his hook altogether. His familiar was making squeaking sounds, squeezing the man’s arms tighter than before. 

“Don’t...be a tease, mate.”

“Stop messing around then. Take me to where I can search for my soul.”

“Where oi’m goin’ ain’t safe fer you! Better you fight lowly ferals in the outskirts than deal with blokes who resent th’living ‘n’ll kill you first sight. Honestly, ya might find something below--”

It continued to prattle on with hypotheticals and bombastic scenarios, but the excuses were just wasted words and wasted time.

“Not scared of them.”

Not realizing exactly what he meant, the spawn brought Hog in for an unrequited squeeze the best he could before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Good, good! I’ll catch up with ya later arvo then! Don’t die!”

Time seemed to slow, as Roadhog could see a burst of crimson explode into a firework of dust before vanishing from his very eyes.

His hook retracted to its spool automatically, and he somersaulted in air over and over, gravity flipping him every which way in what seemed like a drop into an endless well.

His throat was hoarse before long, howling as the anticipation of death crept closer with every story he fell deeper into Hell. 

The blackened city his familiar scouted seemed to ascend in his eyes. What little life he saw swarming the odd crag flitted by, and soon its entirety was shrouded in an drowning darkness.

Roadhog scrambled to clutch the patched-up leather shielding his face. A quick shove from the heel of his right hand allowed partial immediate relief, but no matter how much air he tried to take it, it never seemed enough. His breaths were shallow, his chest was constricted, a vice on his already compromised lungs. And his heart...

Roadhog tried to calm himself, but there was no way to steady his breath. Not without answers of who or where or _why_ his familiar left dropped him like a bad habit to go elsewhere, lest this was its plan from the very beginning.

A grand crack rattled Roadhog’s entire body as his spine took a devastating blow. His head bobbed on some form of ground before lolling off completely, consciousness reminding him one last time to not die before succumbing to an undesired urge to rest weary eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey, the demon reappeared and watched Hog ragdoll through the air like it was a standard game in garry's mod 
> 
> this ain't beta'd, my bad for shit writing


	8. Chapter 8

Skitterings echoed around clubbed and muffled ears.

Something reminiscent of static and concentrated cackling, dancing around his head, like feral witches teetering by a bonfire.

Roadhog knew he couldn’t move, could barely open his eyes, blood clearly pooled in the snout of his mask, the taste of rusted chains in his mouth that made him choke when he tried to inhale. His nose suffered the most of it, obviously broken and bent towards the frigid surface beneath him.

A mental request to move was received, answered by excruciating pain in his calves and thighs. 

Everything regarding his body felt gelatinous, ready to dissolve at a moment’s notice, and the _scritching_ …

Things were scurrying around his mangled body, testy and impatient with each ragged and drawled out breath he attempted.

The way he landed, his right arm was incapacitated; the bulk of his own weight crushed it upon impact.

Blood still trickled from his left shoulder blade earlier, but he could still feel it had use yet.

A clench of his tremored hand revealed his hook was within his clutch.

 

They started up again, rustling like scarabs in the sand, hissings like snakes but guttural, fervent and hungry. Nothing from above sounded this off-putting, or desperate, even at the peak of night where the wild was most active in the Outback.

If he truly died here, could he still find his soul?

Roadhog stewed on the idea, just managing to isolate the sounds of shuffling from his own swimming and erratic thoughts.

Just as it all left his mind, so did the surrounding noise.

It drew mournfully quiet, a moment of silence for the impending and inevitable.

Roadhog wanted to release the only tension he could muster in his grip, and let numbness guide him towards some form of relaxation.

But the scratching on the ground strengthened and concentrated right behind his limp body.

 

A liquid of some sort dripped onto Roadhog’s decent arm, and immediately he groaned out, flesh bubbling on contact with the foreign sap. It dribbled like water, yet ran thick like tar, and carried a sensation similar to a direct cigar burn on his hide.

He couldn’t see, but he felt it. Raw heat, bellowing from something like a mouth. Roadhog tried to keep this pain quiet as to not invite other predators.

Rows of serration impaled his arm and any efforts to muffle himself were gone. His throated cry carried through the void, but immediately as his wails echoed did he feel the teeth dislodge. 

Groaning that rivaled Roadhog’s own came and went in an instant, followed by a warm splash of something against his back. Whatever exploded behind him remained acidic and sizzled on his flesh. He wasn’t sure if layers of his skin were peeling off, as his body worked overtime scrounging up any natural chemical concoctions to numb the pain.

 

It took a moment, but Roadhog rocked his body enough to roll onto his stomach, damaged arm still strong enough to hoist part of him up.

His mask did an excellent job of disallowing him vision, but his squinting did permit some sort of visibility towards the fuming puddle of liquid beside him.

Did it vomit on him before rushing off? Certainly it would have tried to consume him again, especially if what his thrall said was true about the demand for true life.

 

_His thrall._

 

They were bound, for sure, but was he actually protected?

Strained and craned, his neck twisted to his right again just to inspect the pool of bile once more. 

Instead, a pair of golden eyes shrouded in darkness bore themselves into Roadhog from the abyss, never blinking and ever focused on the hindered man. 

He clutched his hook the best he could, but before he could muster up any more energy, the eyes faded from whence they came. 

 

It was official. Roadhog deemed himself a hallucinating mess.

A slowly fading, exhausted, hallucinating mess.

 

He took a bigger breath than he should have, but all the discomfort started to blend into one feeling as he exhaled.

His grip on his hook unclenched ever so slightly.

He would close his eyes for just a moment. Something deep within him pulled at his conscious, whispering in the back of his mind it would be okay, if for just a moment in a space where eternity was just a blip in time.

 

\--

 

“You’ve got some nerve comin’ ‘round here, Rat. They’ve got your face plastered all over the city.” 

“Glad they do. Let them see me in all me majestic glory!” 

“It isn’t anything to joke about. They’ll strip you of everything if they find out you escaped Max--”

“Hold up now. Just what’ve they been sayin’ ‘bout me? Ya sure them shriveled up ears of yours ain’t mixing facts about?”

“Shriveled? I’ve heard more with these ears and seen more with this one eye than you have with all the contracts you’ve been bound to put together, so don’t sass me in my own shoppe.”

“Oh, y’know I don’t mean no harm. Though the fact y’believed the gossips got me wondering if oi should take my precious business elsewhere.”

“Well I’d like to see you try. You know better than anybody else you aren’t welcome in Pandemonium and its outskirts. Doesn’t help you tried to kill everyone just because they ‘needed blowing up’.”

“Look, if oi came here for a’ lecturin’, oi’d sit right here ‘n’ let y’ rip me a new one, but oi’ve got some pressin’ matters!”

“You have a contract.”

 

“Oi most certainly do. And between me and you Shrikey, oi don’t think he’s truly mortal.” Its voice lifted into a place of bliss before peetering off. 

Dim was the cavern the two had bantered in, save for a few illuminated vents. A leveled crag of red rock served as an inanimate slave, holding up trinkets, bottles, and bones of animals and mortals alike. 

The demon took its tail and swung it in its hand playfully before pointing back to the elderly shopkeep, who busied herself around her establishment gathering random items.

“Years of snipin’ souls got y’ crouchin’ all the time. S’not good for yer gorgeous frame y’know!”

“If you think you’re getting some kind of discount, you’re terribly mistaken.” She quipped back, tugging on a jar full of amputated digits. Some were clearly from humans, but there were some strange looking paws and claws swimming in the nearly opaque liquid as well. 

“Never hurts ta try! But oi meant it from the bottom of me...well, y’know what oi mean--”

“Just save it, Rat. What did you come here for? I have other things to work on.”

Reddened index fingers held themselves up at the shrouded owner before finding themselves thrusted into its stomach. Prying open the flesh with its own nails brought forth a slight moan that tight walked between immense pain and faint pleasure, black liquid dripping ever so slowly on the ground before it. Intestines slowly slumped out of its body as it rummaged around, heat pouring from its cavity as it heaved through the physical stress during its search. 

Shrike just looked on, unmoved by the display. At such an age, there wasn’t much that went unseen within her line of work.

Before long, it stopped and its eyes shot open wide. A toothy grin burst into a full out crescent moon as he ripped forth two crystal-like shards from within itself. 

“Took me a long time ta learn how to extract these before they dissolve entirely!”

“I’m sure.” She glared at the pieces of rock nestled between its blackened nails before looking back at the creature. “You want something done in particular with these then?”

“Sure do. Bring ‘em back ta life!”

The shopkeep nearly dropped her inventory before shoving the items on the counter before her. “Are you mad?”

“Well oi know ya can, ya did it before during that huge war in Oz--”

“That was a special circumstance, and it took a lot of resources to even bring life back into that one soul.

“You come from who-knows-where, disembowel yourself and ask me to bring back _two_?”

The demon hobbled over to the counter, dragging its innards to the side before placing them down. In a quick motion, the hanging flesh rope was severed off entirely before stuffing the rest within itself. 

“Look, oi know you think this is all for shits and giggles, but somethin’ shonky’s going on, and oi’m gonna need all the help oi can get.”

 

The elderly woman stared at the demon again before looking down as its stomach started to mend itself shut. A harsh sigh was released as she took the two pieces of rock into her hands.

“I want to know what this is about before I even give you a quote.”

 

It touched at the tips of its hair before scratching behind its neck. 

“Oi was summoned a few mortal days ago, but it wasn’t by another mortal or nothin’.”

“I don’t see what’s so alarming about that, we both know there are other supernatural entities that can ask for our services--”

“Yeah, but this was another demon.”

Shrike held her breath and squinted her eyes in disbelief trying to process the last few words.

“Surely you’re mistaken.”

“Oi could smell it from me summoning circle. One of us, masquerading as a witch, been surface dwelling and preying on stragglers for who knows how long. After the job, oi realized oi couldn’t feel their presence no more, even though oi thought it was the mortal oi’m bound ta now--”

“You lost me, Rat.”

“All you need to know right now is that there’s a demon strong enough ta summon me, did, and vanished from the mortal realm with me contract’s soul.”

“Wait, you bound over the initial demon’s contract?” Urgency permeated her already tremored voice. “Are you suicidal?”

 

The demon didn’t say anything but looked the other way. 

“If he dies, you will surely permanently die as well!”

“Oi’ve taken precautions! He’s protected, that’s why oi had him sign the contract--”

“Do you not understand the extent of what you done, or are you actually moronic?”

“Now look here,” it growled, pulling its back upright and bringing itself to a full, towering height, “oi don’t go and call y’names or judge you ‘n’ yer procliv’s, so don’t pick now to come cross with me.

“Oi came ta you cause you’re the only one I can trust with helpin’ me out with this. That ‘n’ me mate.”

The owner just glared at Junkrat, still trying to take in the entire story. Her face wrinkled more in pensive thought than disgust before she fixed her lips to speak.  
She paused though and turned away.

“What?”

“What’s this contract to you? Why risk yourself for this mortal?”

In an instant, its eyes glittered at the opportunity. “Oh, you haven’t _seen_ him, but if this all goes ta plan, you’ll definitely see why! Wait, wait just,” it flinched as it flailed, far too excited as it still continued to heal. He dropped to the ground and burst into little giggles.

“He’s huge! Fucking massive, like can crush someone’s rib cage without puttin’ in no effort!  
“And he’s got this hook he whipped up himself! He impaled me with it earlier and oi nearly lost me shit. Oi souped it up a bit, circumstances bein’ ‘n’ all.  
“Oh, and when he walks, the ground just trembled and oi feel it in me bones, and just--”

“Okay, I get it,” Shrike interrupted, a faint smile creeping up on the corners of her mouth. “Never took you for that type of demon, Junkrat.”

“Wot you mean then? Oi’m passionate about everything and everyone oi want ‘n’ do.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s the truth,” she laughed off. Shrike was notoriously difficult to amuse, let alone make laugh. 

“Seriously though,” the demon carried on, “Oi need them alive. On me side.”He pointed back at the fished-out rocks resting on the counter. 

“He asked for this?”

“Nah--well, a bit, yeah, but oi could use the extra hands.”

“Give me some time. You’ll know when your concubines are ready.”

Shrill laughter filled the cave and Shrike tried to bring it down from its high with curt "sshes". 

“Not so loud. You know just as well as I this bends the fabric of life.”

“Tell that ta the demon that took me mate’s soul.”

 

Just as the shopkeeper was about to quip back, Junkrat fell to the floor and clutched its back. Shrike shuffled over as quickly as possible, turning over to see boils, burns, and a slew of teeth marks on its body. 

“You...”

“He might be in a pickle,” it huffed out, shivering. “I’ll get ya payment for my thralls, just bring ‘em back--”

“What kind--”

“Surprise me, ya never let me down,” it shouted before rising back up. In an instant, its adaptive arm shifted into a trident-like claw before darting off and out of the cave.

 

Shrike held the two souls in her hands before moving behind her counter and granting herself a private smile.

She knew she’d have fun bringing these two back from a human death into an abyssal existence.

But reviewing Junkrat's tale of a demon strong enough to summon it ripped the smirk from her lips.

There were only two she could think of. One oversees the functionality of Pandemonium as they always have for eons.

The other was supposed to be locked down and suppressed by every spell, incantation, and mantra available to the occult worlds across many galaxies. 

 

Her mind wanted to suppress the idea, but her gut was telling her that things were only to get more complicated in the coming days.

Without any further hesitation, she lifted her eye patch and started chanting at the souls. If the threat was real, Junkrat was right. 

The entire realm would need all the help they could get to quell the imminent threat.


	9. Chapter 9

Fireworks danced on the pallid landscape, illuminating an otherwise grey realm filled with lost purpose and dejection.

 

Each explosion blasted like a metronome in tandem with some jarring song, pitched to the ears of the underlings, led by volatile earthen slag combusting on command.

 

It told itself this was the easiest way to travel long distances without expending too much energy, but even it knew in its slight moments of sanity that was just a lie.

 

Why float when you can propel like a bullet, and risk it all in the process? Demon or not, there was no better way to remind oneself of living than playing with fire, _in_ fire, and this was surely one of them.

 

Detonator in tow, the creature fabricated concussive mines from seemingly nothing, hot and trembling in its hand, on the verge of instability just as its owner was. It chucked one in front of where it figured it’d reach next, factoring in the slower rate of gravital fall before lobbing it ahead. A few moments later, its modified leg would tap on its center to launch it to the next thrown bomb. Next to cloud hopping in the heavens, this was the closest thrill this layer of Hell had to offer.

 

On a good day, it’d giggle and laugh through the journey, making sure falling from the sky — no matter how slow the gravity — was impossible. Everybody _and_ thing knows when gravity reactivated, it’s a swift ticket to the more...banal, unsavory elements outskirting Pandemonium.

 

This wasn’t a good day, nor was it a good moment. It chained its mines together in an effort to quickly hone in on the source of its abrupt discomfort festering on its back.

 

It’d been so long since it was bound to anybody, and even longer where it had a host that didn’t want world domination or similarly unoriginal, jaded wishes. This host excited it to its bubbling core, keeping its interest high enough where it didn’t want to end his mortal life just for a cheap thrill.

 

It took a look down at its good arm and hissed. Jagged teeth marks remained indented on its skin, pain from moments ago still fresh on the flesh.

 

It hadn’t experienced shared pain like this before, and it sure as hell didn’t want to experience it ever again.

 

It's mind cut off for just a moment as it focused on what sounded to be labored breathing far below. A hybrid of intuition and the wafting redolence of blood pinpointed exactly where its host was, and with full urgency it lifted its low gravity away to barrel downward through the skies.

 

 

—

 

 

“…big guy, y’ll be right…

 

 

“…not moving still. Y’gotta get up…

 

 

“…rip a fuckin’ hole ‘n’ta whatever did this…”

 

 

Noise. Roadhog could hear the noise. It was a garbled mess at first, but the static slowly started to form words, the words—sentences.

 

His throbbing head felt lit ablaze, and he felt his gun arm poked at by what felt like needles.

 

He tried to inhale, but hacked up blood from a cough instead.

 

 

“Keep still,” he barely heard. It was mumbled low, and he shifted his arm to reclaim it before receiving resistance.

 

“Oi swear, if y'don't stop y'shiftin'. Let me patch you up.”

 

Roadhog ripped his arm away in protest. Small pieces of gravel pricked at his palm through worn leather as he tried to lift himself up, but his wounds were still too great. He tried once more, but not before a horrendous, guttural hiss roared up from the initial source of threats earlier.

 

A shot of adrenaline was enough to wake up recouperating body parts, and he summoned just enough juice to grab his gun and roll over onto his back. Whatever this new demon wanted, he’d answer to it with augmented shrapnel.

 

Blood tinted the lenses of his mask, but he instantly relaxed his weapon as he made out the familiar svelte figure of his thrall.

 

He sighed heavily before dropping his entire upper body back down to the ground. A low chuckle escaped his lips, and the demon didn’t move.

 

“Took you long enough,” was all he could get out before exhaling once more. “The can—”

 

“Just hold on,” his thrall interrupted, reforging its adaptive arm into hundreds of miniscule needles.

 

“Y’got a toxin in ya. That stuff y’got for normal wounds ain’t gonna save ya. This might hurt a lil’.”

 

Its words were eerily soft, polar of what Roadhog had gotten accustomed to over the past couple days. He didn’t realize it had it in him, whatever this demeanor was. He wasn’t even sure if he was comfortable with his thrall being so…nurturing.

 

“Gonna extract it,” was the only warning Roadhog got before the needles found themselves embedded in his hook arm. Pain never came, just tingling and slight pressure before a full on release of stress flowed through his body.

 

It wasn’t long before his thrall’s arm was pulled out and away. Roadhog mustered up energy to lift a leaded head, wondering if any crude or nonsensical babble was forming.

 

Instead, he caught a shivering frame shaking to reform its adaptive arm, tail tucked between and curled around its good leg. The arm dripped black sludge from the pores, liquid seemingly forced out by his familiar.

 

Something about the sight left Roadhog feeling a certain way. His gut flipped about, and his blood jittered through his veins. He wouldn’t be caught associating that feeling with worry for another.

 

He refocused and kept his eyes locked on the strained, vein-popped face of his demon. The pitch pooled on the earth beneath him, and soon it shook its arm vigorously to whip it back to its dormant state. The black dripped from it onto a similarly coloured earth, but the faint heaving, the tented eyebrows, and the overly-hunched posture were all tell-tale signs of a sacrifice. 

 

“Hey,” Roadhog grunted out, voice more graveled than intended.

 

It turned around, brows knitted in discomfort but forced into a defensive — and distracting — smile. Unsteady gait tacked closer and plopped beside its host before letting out a signature giggle.

 

“ ‘ey mate, y’look like shit! If oi knew better, y’pissed off the worse of ‘em down here.”

 

Roadhog heard the words again, but they weren’t translating. All he could focus on was the feeble attempts it made trying to steady the shaking, the arm consciously tucked behind its back. Roadhog craned upward and realized its normal fiery hue paled to an off-colour red, skin muted with sickly grey undertones.

 

 

“What’s your name.”

 

Whatever it was rambling off about, it stopped dead in its tracks.

 

“Wot?”

 

“You got a name,” Roadhog queried again, a bit more bassful this time.

 

It stared, analyzing the void its host’s mask provided with an odd, expressive look, riddled with confusion, skepticism, and the faintest twinkle in its manic eyes.

 

“Well, yer just full of surprises. Here y’are, sittin’ in what’s practically Hell with no soul ta boot, and y’asking questions about lil’ ol’ me.

 

“WELL,” it inhaled, puffing out its borderline emaciated chest, “Oi’d be happy to tell ya all about me origin story, but oi don’t even think ya have enough time left on y’ mortal thread for all my advent—”

 

“I’m calling you Rat.”

 

It squinted its eyes before rising from its spot on the cold stone.

It never shared its handle of Rat with its master. Were there wanted posters this far out of Pandemonium?

A quick look around revealed nothing but charred vegetation.

Questions of his humanity tumbled through its head, wheeling with no intention of slowing down. 

 

"Oh yeah? Why's that mate--" The question didn't even complete before Roadhog found himself lifting up his mask in response, choking as blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. 

The sight welled something in the acrid, carbonated depths of his thrall. With a heave of its chest, it bent down beside the heartier man, coiling its tail around the same laceration it caused earlier. No guilt from former actions, just thoughtfulness going forward.

"C'mon big guy, up." Its hand was warm, nails gently indenting on Roadhog's injured arm in a stern, yet painless grip. 

That same ethereal heat that nuzzled Roadhog's every step these past few days bloomed once more. Even as he sat on consciousness' edge, he welcomed that feeling.

It didn't take much to lift Hog's mangled body. Without actively witnessing his rise,  he soon was off the ground, low gravity elevating him as he hovered with his thrall back into the sky he was once released from.

His neck lolled, but it felt okay, having it bob faintly against nothingness.  

"No worries, we'll get ya patched up and safe in just a bit," it rasped out, before elongating its tail to holster Roadhog's head and neck. "Guess oi can't leave y''lone yet after all."

  


With a grunt, he dozed again. Behind the hazy mask and blackened eyelids were the husks, falling about him in an exhausted dream. 

His eyes couldn't open, and he knew he was resting.

They fell like autumnal leaves all about him, and in the distance was an uncanny silhouette far too similar to his own be coincidence.

But something was off, different. There were _horns_ , and a skin-stripped tail, and if there wasn't enough already keeping him on edge, this likeness of himself stirred the visions into fully blown nightmare fuel. 


	10. Chapter 10

"Junkrat, why are you back here-- _no_ \--"

The elder jumped back, her tattered headwrap unraveling  off top her head from the sudden jerk-back . She pawed about it for a moment it until it sat proper again. 

"What is-- _Why_ is the mortal here?!" 

Junkrat sat, gangly legs crossed facing its host. It whipped its head around, pressing its entire adaptive arm to its lips in a hushing motion before flashing friendly teeth.  

"Well...all m'safehouses are too far off from where he was 'avin' a blue, s'here was closest!" 

"My entire establishment is at risk!" Shrike's whispers were edging on full-blown shouts. "Just that scent _alone_ \-- that human blood, no matter how irradiated or mixed with your own-- that scent can still attract other creatures!" A wired, barely stabilized finger pointed at the resting bundle of flesh tucked away in the corner of the cavern.

"Oh yeah, cause this place is a treasure trove o' business," it snapped back, waving off Shrike entirely. It was fully aware this whole ordeal could sever whatever mutual protection they had for each other, but in the end when something or someone didn't comply with Rat...well, Rat _would_ have its way. 

"Look," It started, crawling over to the sleeping giant to take a couple of whiffs about its torso. Temptation to climb overtop of him and feel around was only seized by its host's clear discomfort and pain. It'd save its personal assault for later. 

"Mm," it exhaled, chest fully deflating before taking another inhale. " 'e's got more of me scent than anything else due to us bein' bound together. Plus him bein' soulless and all don't make him much a target either. Bein' in the boonies helps too. It'll be fine, y'worry too much!" 

Its squeaking did nothing for the elder shopkeep except amplify her discomfort regarding the entire situation. 

"Watch. Him." The demand was firm, but released just as quick. Rat watched as she sighed, slinking away into a hastily conjured archway leading off into another realm. 

 

Puttering of mini-eruptions from steaming vents broke through new silence, and the demon gravitated towards the slumbering man once more.

It inched just close enough to feel the heat emanating from Roadhog's massive thigh, eyes perusing the entirety of its host's body. The acid burns and bite marks on his arm and back were already patched up for the most part thanks to the removal of the toxin and his host's own source of portable life support.

A stiletto nail prodded at it's host's hip, index finger wandering towards Roadhog's belt to touch upon an empty yellow container. 

The thrall always found it rare to actually witness someone with that kind of rapid-- dare it say--almost divine healing. There was a special case once, it recalled, where it was forced to serve someone particularly heinous in the upper echelons of medicine. He was an ornery, tainted soul, a contract teeming with malicious intent.

Control.

Rat remembered that wrinkled senior barking about its main desire being control.  Over women, over boys--any disenfranschised flesh he could get his shriveled digits on, he demanded the power to obtain it as Rat's summoner. 

The request was nothing too farfetched for the scum of mortality, but for a quick soul, Junkrat wouldn't deny that mortal its services at that time. 

It recollected the pact, and relived the moments it had to watch its host viomanipulate those who trusted him most in his field, his office, his home.  It figured that both its contract and all participating parties would all be husks eventually anyway, and that there was nothing a mortal could do to surprise it in terms of dastardly deeds and occurences. So, Rat let the activities carry on unchecked. 

 

Its glare on Roadhog's caution-coloured vessel tightened, eyes bulged and unwavering, glazing as it focused not on the recouperating man, but rather on its revisualitzation of past events. 

 

That man ripped young kids and senile bitties wide open with Rat's power in the name of lust.  More blood than the average fair, more struggle. 

It watched dozens of barely talking, barely functioning humans fall into a halt of growth due to its host, the victims' own souls more appetizing due to the sheer trauma and grief they amassed versus what that archaic cur had to offer. 

Charity wasn't in the contract, and Rat realized the arrangement soured its prize with every predatory thrust its host made into a non-consenting victim. 

There wasn't much of a falling out. 

Junkrat's lips curled into a fullout smile as vignettes of its contract's severed head flashed before its eyes once more, the reminder of such a satisfying end to a disgusting, inedible soul. It flayed that contract the same way it assaulted its victims, with serrated genitals and a vicious, barbed tail skewering him through both orifices. Rat speared him like a deer on a spit before decapitating his head and hacking it into fours.

   
Episodes aside, it was in between that doctor's dubious acts where Junkrat first saw healing of that sort from human hands.  Astouding stuff, it thought. To reverse engineer that formula and turn that concentrate into a weapon was something in its perview it just never got around to. 

 

Murdering its then-contracted master was also the very start of its full-blown notoriety in Pandemonium.

 

"Unnngh..."

Singed lashes batted themselves a  few more times before refocusing on its new, true host. 

"Big guy, y'e're alive! Thanks ta yers truly of course, but--"

"Shut up," Roadhog grumbled before gently shifting about on the floor.  "Fucking sore." Whatever effort was being made to rise ceased then and there, and Junkrat felt the ground reverberate as Roadhog relinquished his arms back to gravity and onto the floor. They lolled to the side of his equipment, unmoving, almost as if he drew last breath. Something about the sight sent a welcome chill down its spine.

"Aww, don't be like that--"

Thin lips felt themselves smooshed against the double barrel of a familiar gun.  Rat should have guessed Roadhog's initial reactions were a ruse. Still, it only let out a breathy gasp before exhaling a cheerful, delighted laugh in bursts.

"Always full of surprises, you are! Though, 'm' pretty sure oi made clear ya can't kill me with them rounds you got loaded in--ow!" 

Another swift motion from the bigger man sent it reeling on the floor, rubbing its eyebrow at the assaulted point. The buttstroke from Hog's shotgun left it whimpering, groaning and boggling at how--for some reason-- it wasn't anticipating its host's gestures. 

"Th'heck was that for?"

"You know damn well," Roadhog boomed, pushing himself up with much ease before focusing his attention on his thrall. "Give me a reason to not cut you down now."

Junkrat kept on rubbing its eyebrow in circles before pouting, tail whipping across the floor like a floundering eel. Taken aback again, it found itself looking up. When did he stand up entirely? 

"Well, if I croak, ain't no way you getting y'soul back, so y'go that route, y'might as well start lookin' f'work down here. Tell ya what, big guy; Oi'll be yer boss if ya ask nice enough. Fifty-fifty, 'member?"

Sung words did nothing to waver the stoic juggernaut before it. Just a mask and a gaze inavertable, its tail felt the need to keep stark still.

"Don't look at me like that, I get all sorts of confused," it slurred, entranced and unsettled. His host's cadence had a way of helping it completely forget its immense power as an immortal entity.

"You got one more time to fuck up, Rat." 

Air popped from Roadhog's shoulder as he rotated the newly healed arm. There was a scar there, barbed wire pattern imprinted on his skin, raised like the work of a branding iron. Roadhog could see the conflicting emotions on his thrall's face--whatever they were--skewing its expressions eight-which ways. 

"Do I? Just one? Guess oi better get ready for m'punishment then--"

Third time's the charm, and Rat finally dodged the battering ram of an arm hurling straight for it. A cloud of red swirled around Roadhog before finally appearing behind him. If it was a spar the mortal wanted, the demon would happily dance.

It blinked behind Roadhog again, elbowing right on the healed spot where that horrifying creature bit him earlier. The bigger man dropped with a thud, but not before casting his hook to trip his hysterical thrall. 

The hoot-and-hollering was metallic on Mako's ears, enough to aggravate the most patient of saints. He flicked the lever of his hook, chain wrapped around its legs as a serpent would its prey. A quick reel-in brought it right by his side, and it shimmied as if it was truly trapped, giggling starting to ebb away. 

Roadhog pushed himself back to his feet and yanked the demon by the tail, untangling it from the chains so the metal could set proper on the reel. Raising it entirely to eye level was difficult upside down -- its body was long and unending, even when curled up like the dead rodent it was about to be. 

"When this is through, I'm gonna rip you limb from limb."

Hog felt his mask did well to shield his humanity from the creature, but the look it gave him bore right through the angry facade.

In that moment, hanging upside down like some frigid bat, Mako saw something reminiscent of assurance brimming from golden, marbled eyes. A desperate want plastered on its face, from the promise. The thought prompted him to drop it to the ground and turn around with a grunt.

He ignored its long drawn "ow"s and "ooch"es, and took to picking up his gun. 

"Any new leads while you left me to die?" Roadhog finally took time to look around at the dim and dismal hole-in-the-wall he was stashed in while passed out.

It still didn't reply, but rather just stared at its host. 

"Well?"

"S'that's why you tried to give me a shiner?"

A slew of silver hair whipped over his shoulder as Roadhog turned towards the creature once more.

"Well whatever attacked you out there _was_ the lead. Ain't nothin' that talks an' eats supposed to be where oi dropped ya."

The junker kept his focus, waiting for it to continue.

"Who ever initially sprung me sent that thing after ya, no doubt in me mind about it. Pretty sure it knows we're back home...probably felt the remnants of my aura when I tellied through m'portal--"

"Thought you said an overwrite of the contract severs all bonds with the previous host."

"Well, sure, up top that's how it works, but when you get back here," he gestured, almost suggestively pointing downwards and wagging his index finger in circles, "bonds tend to be a bit stronger, more durable so ta speak." It pointed to its own arm, where a faint bite mark slowly dimmed before Roadhog's eyes.

"You knew this beforehand and didn't tell me." Roadhog's anger simmered, hook hand clenched in a fist. 

"Might have...you know, forgotten?" it squeaked, shrugging and grinning. 

"What else have you conveniently forgotten to tell me?" 

"I'm one-part incubus--" 

"Important information!" Roadhog bellowed, far too riled up, even for his liking. 

Just as he was about to go off some more, swirlings of air and a sweltering heat coalesced between the two of them. 

Roadhog took a step back and readied his hook, but noted his thrall was ever relaxed. 

Out came a booted foot, followed by a frail body spewing profanities. It took careful steps not to trip, expecting something to be at its feet blocking its way. 

"Oh Shrikey, just in the nick'o'time!" 

Hog's thrall extended its pegged leg, actually causing the elderly being to trip into something quite plush and organic. 

"So help me Rat--" Lifting from the source of comfort, Shrike's eye bore wide and took a few steps back. 

"Oh! So sorry, I didn't mean to," she stuttered, patting Roadhog's stomach. It did well to ease the fall. 

Her words came to a halt, and started to inspect the human supposedly tainting her shop. 

After a quick look over, she glanced at Junkrat, and it looked on in disgust. 

" Oi'm so jealous of you right now. I wanna touch too!" He whined on, good hand frantically making grabby motions. 

"You are sure he's..." She trailed off, thoroughly intrigued now. Liberties were taken, and she squeezed at Roadhog's bicep, not the least bit concerned or frightened for her life. 

"That's what I've been tryna tell you! Bloody built like a brick shit 'ouse, this one!" 

Roadhog cleared his throat, but the bodily inspection didn't cease. Her hands rested upon his belly in a motherly manner before pulling away to look at his mask. Pruned fingers traced over his porcine tattoo before letting out a faint chuckle.

"If Rat gives you any trouble, you let me know."

 

There's something Hog didn't expect.

 

"Well it ain't like y'gonna do anything about it if I do--"

Before he could finish his retort, Shrike shuffled away from Hog, easing towards the lounging demon on the floor. A swift slap upside its forehead blurred before either could register.

"So much abuse today!"

Ignoring the creature, Roadhog looked on as the elder chanted under her breath, unsteady hand casting a circle in the air before them. It wasn't long before another rippling portal teared through the air and opened up, a rift to a dimension unbeknownst to Roadhog.

He watched as his familiar sat up, focused on the glittering swirls.

A loud thud clomped from the rift, scaled and armoured toes leading forward out of the portal. Wind whipped at its sarong, accessorized with the wings of a dragon hugging around its humanoid form. 

Roadhog's eyes travelled up to see a scaled stomach with a molten line parting through its bosom, arms braced and adorned with gold plating and reptilian scales. Horns too, protruded from its head--three he counted--fully equipped with spikes going down its center horn. 

There was a concentrated look in cadmium eyes, wired and trained on Rat entirely. 

 

Roadhog squinted, watching as the new spawn's mouth moved, but audible words weren't coming out. 

Still, it was saying _something_. 

Roadhog shifted his attention from the old woman to the strange scaled creature back to his own thrall. 

Demons weren't supposed to as jubilant and expressive as his own in that moment. Roadhog's gut wrenched everywhich way, trying to get a handle on Rat's borderline childish enthusiasm. 

Its smile was more radiant than the flames it conjured, brighter than the pillar he orchestrated in Junkertown on their first encounter.

It looked so human to Roadhog. 

 

Its lips started to move as well, muted conversation brimming with life, and Roadhog couln't peel his eyes away. 

He was so focused trying to listen in on the inaudible conversation that the sounds of Shrike approaching were unheard.

 

"Rat told me you wanted this."

Hog masked his flinch as an itch and readjusted. 

"Wanted what?"

"There's another one as well. She's almost finished. Still incubating, but reforging her soul into something more permanent proved difficult. She's a fiestier one."

Roadhog turned to look back at Rat, who was now up and doing a full-blown jig.  

"It's againt Pandemonium code to resurrect a mortal soul without proper protocols, but I owe Rat a few favours. 

"Still, it's very surprising to see him so vested in a host, despite his life resting in your hands. Strange how that's worked out.

"If those souls weren't so young and pure, it would have taken ages to filter through and prep them for their new life."

 

Roadhog took a moment to unpack everything Shrike said, but eventually he focused in on the last particular and snapped to attention in shock. 

"Rat!" He roared, startling all parties in the room.  Its frolic came to a halt, and it tacked over to its master, adaptive arm welded into two fingers. 

The junker grabbed it by its bandolier and pulled it to the side, shielding its entire existence with his massive frame.

"Who...what is--"

"Satya's her name," he sang, not understanding the atmosphere Roadhog was trying to make. "Was an engineer or somethin' before oi ate her up, but no hard feelin's! Come with the territ'ry of reincarnation 'n' all. "

Roadhog didn't know what to make of the draconic demon spawn, poised and proper, non-wavering in her new found gaze boring back at his own. 

"You brought them back as demons."

"Better than a husk! Or worse, just innate energy digested by yours truly." It patted at what should have been a stomach, but resembled emaciation more than anything else.

Roadhog wondered if he should have just let him eat in peace.

"What about her soul--"

"She was bound to be a husk, trust me. Th'both of them, can smell it on 'em when they ain't purest of folk."

He dropped his thrall back down to its feet before pinching the bridge of his mask.

"Only you can speak to her?" 

"Fer now, yeah. She gotta relearn somethings. Right now, talkin' with her in tongue is second nature ta her, but gettin' through to a still live mortal'll be a bit."

"You let her know what we're doing?" Roadhog's inquisition came to a halt when the newly forged demon sauntered between the two of them.

She turned to Junkrat, pointed at Roadhog, then proceeded to move her lips in a frenzy. Whatever she was saying wasn't positive; Roadhog could see the discomfort rolling off the wrinkles of her face in waves. 

What started as apathy festered into anger. 

Roadhog could tell by its utterly unenthusiastic expression it was getting its ear chewed out. 

He could see his thrall losing its composure. Roadhog noticed it usually started when its posture uncurled and came to true size. 

The newer demon continued to go off, manicured hands now flailing in hot ire as it silently (to Roadhog's ears) continued to argue.

 

The tension ceased before Roadhog could react. 

A gruff pirouette on its peg leg paired with an augmented tail and arm were all the warning both Hog and the new demon got before black dripped from the reptilian demon's cheek.

 

"Rat!"

Shrike rushed over to assess the damage, blood substitute dribbling from the wounds.

"I didn't work this hard for you to just destroy--" 

Her sentence stopped for the safety of her life, Junkrat glaring at her with pitch still dripping from its limbs. 

 

Roadhog grabbed his thrall from the back of its neck.

He expected retaliation with either one of its weapons, but a subtle squeeze realized the weapons back to their reversion. It closed its eyes and re-curled back to its abysmal posture the best it could, pushing back ever slightly into its host's clutch. 

Roadhog took yet another mental note.

He dragged him closer and whispered in its ear.

"Cut that shit out."

"No promises," it whispered, calmer in voice. 

Roadhog released his grip to let it go, but not before hearing a very faint whine. 

Shrike ogled in awe of the interaction before avoiding Junkrat's glare. She turned back around, tending to her creation's wounds.

"And don't lay a hand on that woman, you hear?"

Something indecipherable puffed from his familiar's lips as it shoved itself away from Roadhog. 

"What'd you say?"

"Yeah, whatever, n' need to be a hard ass. Say it once, it's done!"  

Before Roadhog could beckon it back over, a puff of red dust evaporated around them. Just that quick, Hog's familiar was gone.

 

"Well he's got it bad for you," Shrike mumbled in the corner. Her eyes scanned at Roadhog before looking back over to the other demon and chanting over its wound. 

"What?"

"Rat. I haven't seen him act this way in a very long time. 

"If he keeps this up, he'll turn Pandemonium inside out to get your soul back."

"Good," Roadhog replied. Satya's gaze forked into his mask, clearly bothered by his presence.

"It isn't," Shrike countered. "He'll kill any man, creature, or thing to see your wishes through. Himself included."

 

The idea shouldn't have bothered Roadhog. Wasn't that the whole arrangement anyway? A soul for a soul? 

It wouldn't sacrifice itself to not get its reward. That's not what demons did.

The deal struck was never in Hog's favour, and he didn't expect the fairness of the deal to tip in his odds ever either.

 

"Just trust an old crone on this one, and take care of him.

"He's all you have."

 

"Enough." 

Roadhog picked up his gun from the corner of the room and barreled through the door.

 

Too much on his mind, too much being filled up by people who didn't matter to him.

Where did his thrall go?

He was on a mission. Find the asshole who stole his shit, fill them up with holes, get it back, and work on repairs to his bike.

The to-do list was simple.

Why couldn't he feel its heat? 

Surely this whole bout with being in Hell or whatever occult creatures called it could be rectified faster, but damn it he'd been attacked already and almost died.

What if it wouldn't come back?

 

Roadhog stopped walking and finally found himself at an obsidian cliff, blackened trees surrounding him along a deep blue backdrop. Light was scarce, yet he didn't feel watched like before. Perhaps his thrall wasn't lying about dropping him somewhere safe.

Safety. What if it threw itself in some kind of danger?

"Fuckin' Rat," he muttered. 

"Wherever you are, get back here." 

 

The warmth. 

He felt it in a small wave. He knew it couldn't see it, but his lips curled behind his mask in faint relief.

His thrall was nearby, he could sense it, ontop of feel its radiating heat. 

"Take your time," Roadhog said aloud.

"But hurry the hell up."

At the end of his life, he'd rather give his soul to this creature rather than have it consumed by the fuck up demon who couldn't even keep his summoned familiar bound. 

He wouldn't tell it... _him_ that though. 

 

Mako plopped down on the cold earth and look out towards the scenic nothingness. His stomach felt on fire, and he sighed knowing it was closer than he'd like.

"Fine," he whispered.

Roadhog would allow it this time. 

 

He sat there for some time, meditative and unaware of the draconic demon staking him out from only a stone's throw away. 


End file.
